


awakening

by greenlights_and_rabbitholes



Series: Unheavenly Creatures Duology [2]
Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018), Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: 1960s, 1990s, Activism, Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Crossover, Demons, Familiars, Family of Choice, Found Family, Greendale, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, Uktena - Freeform, Witches, demon!hal, second part of duology, southside serpents, witch!Alice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:34:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 173,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25315393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenlights_and_rabbitholes/pseuds/greenlights_and_rabbitholes
Summary: Something is rotten in the town of Riverdale, and time is running out to rid of the evil. Sabrina must come to terms with her choices before the odds turn against her. The Uktena, once forgotten by the Serpents, makes a powerful resurgence, led by no other than a descendant of the founding members. And Alice has to decide once and for all - to let the guilt of her past swallow her, or to embrace her roots as a witch from the Southside, fighting to protect the ones she loves.
Relationships: Alice Cooper & Sabrina Spellman, Alice Cooper/Hal Cooper, Alice Cooper/Hiram Lodge, Archie Andrews/Josie McCoy, FP Jones II/Gladys Jones, Sabrina Spellman & Jughead Jones, Sabrina Spellman & Veronica Lodge, Salem Saberhagen & Sabrina Spellman, Toni Topaz/Nancy Woods
Series: Unheavenly Creatures Duology [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833595
Kudos: 161





	1. Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Hi pals!
> 
> So because Unheavenly Creatures is growing, I decided to make the work into a duology series, split into two works. That means I can expand a little more on what I want to share, and it provides a greater level of anticipation! I hope you're just as excited as I am!
> 
> Stay safe, and happy reading!

**TONI**

The spirits are screaming in my head tonight. Something bad is about to happen, I can’t tell what. The shop is completely empty, so that gives me the free space to perform a quick ritual. My granddad taught me to play nice with the spirits, they can either bring messages of good fortunes or omens of doom. I think tonight, the spirits have brought me an omen.

This isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with this uneasy feeling. Certainly not in the past few weeks. Back before Thanksgiving, I almost had a seizure. A malevolent creature of some sorts got let out. A week later, I suffered a migraine. A boy was killed, a football player on the Northside of town. I’m experiencing that same ache tonight. If I can learn what’s causing it, maybe I can stop it. Even if I’m just a seance for hire.

I make a circle with the candle I had in my pantry, lighting them one by one. I take a piece of colorful chalk and draw out the symbols. I call for the spirits to rise, the same way Granddad showed me when I was a young witch. My powers aren’t as strong as his, I can really only speak to the spirits on a good day. I mean, the only reason I run this shop is because of my blood. I guess that’s the one upside of being a descendant of the Uktena.

Voices whisper in my eardrums. It tickles my bones, it makes a draft of wind form. “Spirits,” I speak, “Blood is about to be shed. And I fear I’ve felt this bad presence before. Guide me to it. Show me the face of this unknown evil.” It gets quiet all the sudden. My friends on the other side are getting to work. I just need to be patient.

My eyes roll to the back of my head. Images swirl in my head. A young girl with short brown hair glares at a cheerleader with a sick smile. Her face is green. She looks possessed. A voice ripples.  _ I’ll take care of everything…..just like I promised. _ The image goes in and out, intercutting with the same girl, now pinned against a set of lockers, bleeding out. A new voice enters the scene, someone much older.  _ Who let you out of that house? Who did you latch onto?  _ I see the face of this new voice, a blonde with red coming out of her nostrils. She searches around a bathroom all panicked. Her eyes form tears of blood. A black silhouette enters the scene. It holds a goblet of some sort in its hands. What are the spirits trying to show me?

**_A reckoning is coming….. And that reckoning IS ME._ **

Bloodshed. Fire. A crumpled photo. Girls falling down in hallways. One girl screams. Black are her veins. Something that isn’t all witchcraft flies out of her. It kills. And a cat…..no…..I’ve felt this before. It morphs into a human, then…..

My eyes snap open. My nose and my ears bleed. I scream.

I know what the spirits have been trying to tell me. The Riverdale Reaper has returned.


	2. What Ever Happened to the Witches of Salem?

**SABRINA**

It shouldn’t have gone this way. The point of me asking Salem to take care of Midge was to solely have her experience a change of heart, a way to not act so cruel and demanding. Midge wasn’t supposed to die. And neither was Chuck. Now they’re both six feet under and I’m still walking above them.

An investigation has opened in regards to her murder, part of which was instigated by Mrs. Klump after she came after Sheriff Keller for not doing his job. This was never Sheriff Keller’s fault. I’m angry I allowed this to happen. I’m angry at Salem for even thinking of committing this awful of a crime. Where has he disappeared off to? Why hasn’t he returned to the trailer park, or even back at school? And….and where did this Black Hood business come from? What kind of a cover up is that? All Salem is doing is sending the town into further hysteria! And I thought the Riverdale Reaper gave everyone a scare! It’s like he’s trying to emulate the freak. It’s not right. But I let him do that. I gave him a reason to fuel the chaos.

I’m silent staring down at Midge’s grave. The dash between the years of her life stand out on this gravestone. The dash means she’ll never go to college, she’ll never move up in the world, she’ll never have a family of her own. The dash represents how quickly her life was taken away. I feel the tears roll down my face captivated by this dash. I just wish I didn’t have this guilt draping over me. I wish I didn’t suffer through it alone.

The funeral just ended, with Ginger, Tina, and all the other Vixens weeping in a huddle, with Sheriff Keller doing his best to maintain the peace, and with V and her father, and the Joneses, and Aunt Ali, standing by one another not saying a word. Everyone in town came out here to mourn her, way more than who came to Chuck’s pep rally just days ago. The funeral came together so quickly, I’ve lost track of the days gone by. They cancelled school today to allow for the student body to attend. Some of my classmates suspect that midterms will be cancelled due to the recent events and tragedies. They joke it will be a good early Christmas present. Others want the time to grieve and to spend more time with family. My heart breaks for the Claytons and the Klumps, for their families will never be healed and whole again.

Despite the differences of opinions, all the kids at school are scared and, rightfully, angry. They’re scared because Midge was slaughtered in the walls of a sanctuary to most. They’re angry because Midge’s death is being taken more seriously than Chuck’s. They believe he was murdered (which he was) and not mauled by a bear, and despite his awful deeds, he should have been given more recognition. When Sheriff Keller publicly announced the hunt for Midge’s killer, students organized and protested outside of the school, and during the school day. They walk out of classes, purposefully miss after school events to organize. I understand their anger. What I….what Salem did has exposed an ugly truth that Riverdale wants to hide.

From what I’ve seen and heard, there was more to Chuck Clayton than what V and I experienced. People who knew him growing up claimed him to be a quick learner, that no matter what wrongs he committed, he would acknowledge his mistakes and learn from them. He liked to draw and had wanted to go off to school to become a comic book artist. Coach Clayton verified this love of art, saying he felt that his son focused more on it than football practice. The more that I passed by the communal grieving, the more I realize that I acted irrationally. As I did with Midge. I only saw Chuck and Midge as enemies, people who weaponized their popularity and took advantage of others. Yet, I never tried to get to know them as human beings. I never learned why they resorted to their faulty behaviors. I let my own emotion get the worst of me. I put V and myself into more danger. And I gave reasons for Salem to destroy everything.

It makes me want to flee this town and return to the comfort of Aunties and Ambrose back in Greendale. But what if they hear about everything that I’ve done? Will they ever allow me to walk through the front door again? Will they still call me a member of the Spellman Family?

No, they wouldn’t think like that. Most likely, someone in the Church would use these events as evidence in my trial that due to my lack of magical control, I need to go down the Path of Night. That it’s in my blood to work under the Dark Lord’s will. I’m a witch, not a child of God, they’ll claim, and I know they will. Not unless I choose not to go back to Greendale. Maybe I can be transient, like Ali was. I can travel the country, go to places I’ve read about in books and seen in movies, figure out what kind of magic I want to settle into when I get older. I want to do better by my mother and father….

Mom and Dad. What would they say about all of this? Would they be angry at me too? They wouldn’t want me to run from my troubles. They wouldn’t have allowed for me to mess up this horribly. And Ali….I can’t leave Ali behind and not say goodbye. She’ll go into a further state of depression if I run away. Someone has to look out for her. And someone has to help V with whatever is going on with her. Her father can’t be the only one. And Jughead can’t write those stories on his own. And….

I have to silence my thoughts for just a moment, I have to block out the noise. All my mind is doing staring at Midge’s grave is plaguing me with regret. My eyes go up from Midge’s grave. I glance around the sea of people at this funeral. No one locks eyes with me, but I can see them all. I can’t leave now. There’s too many people I care for deeply, there’s too much blood on my hands. Salem may have slaughtered them, but I placed them on the chopping block. I released him from that house. I keep allowing for his behavior to ensue. Not anymore.

I can’t keep running from my mistakes. I stood my ground on my birthday, I told them I would never sign myself away. So, right now, I need to stay. I need to stop Salem from creating further chaos. I need to own up to my actions. It has to get done before I go back to Greendale. Chuck and Midge deserve to have peace, and this will be the only way they can receive that peace. In this silence, I make up my mind. I have to tell Ali what’s going on tonight. If not, I’ll go to the police and admit the truth to Sheriff Keller myself.

The funeral crowd starts to break off, group by group. No one comes over to Midge’s grave to say a final goodbye. No one bothers to check in on the other Vixens, or me. Some pass by Mrs. Klump to say they’re “sending their thoughts and prayers”. I’m tempted to read the woman’s mind, I want to meet her and apologize for everything. But I can’t move. I can’t open my mouth. I just stare at her and watch more of her world crumble at her fingertips. She won't have a daughter to come home to, and it’s all my fault. At the corner of my eye, another person comes into view. A young woman with cotton candy pink hair stands under an umbrella, watching me with curious eyes. Does she know me? Does she know what I’ve done? 

A hand presses into my shoulder. “Sabrina.” My sight goes away from the mysterious young woman, I turn to the source of the new voice. Ali struggles to get her sentence out, I watch her lip quiver. I look back over at…. The pink haired woman is gone. I bring my sights back to Mrs. Klump while I wait for Ali to make her point. “You want to get something to eat? We’re thinking about getting a few tables at Pop’s.” She glances down at the tombstone, then she notices me staring at Mrs. Klump. “Do you need a few more minutes, honey? I know you had a tough time getting along with her….”

“I’m fine, Ali.” I say, turning away from Mrs. Klump. I should give her space to grieve over her daughter. Besides, I should get something in my stomach before I admit the truth to Ali. Before I admit to anyone the truth of my faults. I explain, “I could actually use good company right now.” Ali gives me a sad smile. She brings her arm to fully wrap over my shoulders, and she leads me away from Midge six feet under, back to the Lodges and the Joneses. 

It’s crowded in the diner, most of the funeral crowd flocked over to grab a warm, cozy meal from Pop Tate. The noise of it all is getting to me. My stomach’s growling, but I can’t think about putting food in me when I have Midge’s sliced up corpse floating in my conscious. I have to fight the urge to vomit. From the other end of the diner, I spot Moose blotting away tears with the cuff of his suit jacket. He’s sitting with Archie, Reggie, and Kevin, Sheriff Keller’s son. I can barely make out their conversation, but Moose is saying something about how they’re clearing out Midge’s locker. Every bit of her is fading away, piece by piece. He hates it, and I do too.

I can hear Ali whispering to Mister Lodge and the Joneses at the table next to ours. They took a booth, leaving us kids to catch up with one another. Jughead and his sister take one side, V and I take the other, with V against the window and me at the end cap. I want to hear what Moose is saying, but my hearing gets overpowered by the adults’ voices.

_You sent word to her family yet, witch? What do you think I’ve been scrambling to do the past couple of days? Poor girl’s barely eaten since that pep rally. I can’t get a word out of her either. But she and Veronica were there. They must know something…._

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay, ‘Brina?” V places her hand over my wrist. The whispers fade out, I focus my attention back to our table. Jughead and Jellybean are staring at me. V touches my forehead. “You look green.”

My eyes go back to Moose and his blubbering state. “I shouldn’t have left Midge behind. I knew Salem had a hold of her, I knew something would go wrong. And…..and I still left.”

“You can’t keep blaming yourself for this forever.” Jughead pipes up. “You’re not the one who turned Midge Klump into a life-size version of Operation.”

Acid reflux rises up into my throat. My eyes water. V squeezes my arm and glares at Jughead. “Not. Helping. _Torombolo_.”

Jellybean shifts in her seat. “He’s got a point. You shouldn’t take on the guilt for a crime you didn’t commit.” My anxiety eases at the younger girl’s words, but I still have to hold my tongue. Part of me wants to tell her, _You wouldn’t get it. You don’t know what it takes to live my life. And Ali’s._

But I don’t. Instead, I glance over at Ali sitting at the other table. She meets my gaze and frowns. I feel horrible for what she’s put up with because of me. She came to Riverdale to help me. She looked after me when I acted like a walking nightmare. And now, I feel like she has to keep me from doing things I might regret. I don’t want to torture her anymore. I can’t leave her in the dark about my involvement with these deaths. And about Salem’s true nature.

My hands wrap around my stomach. I turn away from her and ease back into the leather cushion of this booth. My nails dig into the flesh of my upper arm. I shift my eyesight towards the world outside. Trees sway with the wind on the other side of the highway. Cars zoom past, some pull into the diner to follow the pattern of everyone else inside. I wonder where Salem has wandered off to. I wonder when…..if….he will come back.

“The next time I see Salem….” I voice to our group, “he better be ready to face the consequences of his actions. I won’t let him trick me. Not anymore.”

“How did your cat trick you?” Jellybean raises the question. Oh no. I forgot she doesn’t know. I only told Jughead about what’s going on, not his sister. My brain floods my head with worried thoughts. If I admit everything to Jellybean, how will I know she can keep these secrets? What if she’s the one that breaks the truth to Ali? No, it has to be me. No one else can get hurt. My hands shake. Sweat drips down my back. The younger Jones tilts her head at me. “He’s not an ordinary cat, is he?”

Jughead sees my state of panic, and he nudges her arm. “That’s enough, Jeebs.” The Jones kids break out into a quiet argument, not wanting to attract the attention of their parents. Meanwhile, my hands lose control of the shaking. My eyes go back to Moose. My stomach turns to knots when I see how much more broken he’s become since the funeral. I took away someone he loved. I took away a teammate. I almost took his life. And now he has to live with the ghosts of his peers haunting him. Moose looks up and sees me. The life in him has faded away.

I stumble out of the booth, I grip on the table to keep myself from falling over. V gasps, “‘Brina!” My movement causes the whole diner to stare at me. Even Ali and the other adults. She grows panicked for my well being. “Sabrina….” She moves away from Mister Lodge to stand up and help me.

“NO!” I have to back away from her, from everyone near me. Sparks run through my fingertips. I don’t want to use my witchcraft on Ali, she doesn’t deserve it. But if that’s what will prevent her and the others from getting hurt…. I can’t make any of them stay away. They’ll be with me until Salem, or even the Dark Lord himself, brings them to their demise one by one. I have to get out of Riverdale. No. I have to turn myself into the police. Salem is my familiar, I’m responsible for him. I have to confess.

I take one step back, then another, adjusting my coat so it cocoons me tighter. “I….” I stutter on my words. “I have to go. I’m sorry.” Without wasting one minute further, I bolt out of the diner. I don’t wait for anyone to call out for me. I don’t wait for Aunt Ali, or V, to follow me out of Pop’s.

My feet skate on the icy road. I almost stumble and twist my ankle a couple of times, but I can’t slow down. I need to get to the police station. I need to straighten this all out with Sheriff Keller. And when I get a chance, I need to find a way to unbound myself from Salem. I contemplate whether I should use a conjuring spell to make Salem return from his hiding place. I could laugh….why should I bother? He wouldn’t want me to disappear and go off to jail. Or worse, die. He would have to appear somehow. Someway. He’s my familiar, whether or not he acts on his own accord.

Buildings from downtown grow around me. I run past the graveyard, where I was just hours ago. _Don’t worry, Midge and Chuck_ , I send a loving note towards the gravestones. _I’m going to make things right. I promise._ A few families strolling along their young children give me funny looks when I pass them. I spot the places where Chuck and Midge made some of their last public appearances. The movie theater, where V and Chuck had their ill fated night out. The coffee shop, where Midge asked what my priorities were. Blue and red lights flash down the street, close by the town hall. A group of police officers block the steps into the building, holding off protesters from school and all over town. Their voices and their cardboard posters scream JUSTICE FOR CHUCK. Neither side makes a move, it’s a war of strategy. No one wants bloodshed, yet no one will stand the deaths of more people in Riverdale. In the middle of the line of police, Sheriff Keller begs for protesters to stay calm, for his crew of police to hold off their attacks. I don’t know if I have a shot at getting to him through this crowd. I don’t know if he’ll even consider listening to me with the chaos ensuing. But it’s worth a try.

I step my way through gaps. I keep my sights on my person of interest. “Sher….Sheriff Keller!” I call out, squeezing myself between two of my classmates. I accidentally bump into one. She shoves me off, screaming at me to watch it. The protesters raise their voices. “Excuse me!” I raise my voice over the screaming. “I….I have to get to Sheriff Keller! Please, let me through!” The crowd blends more together in unity. If only I knew a spell that can send me down the middle. But these people have a right to be out here. They have a right to gather and speak out. What I did to Chuck was not called for. V and I should have handled the situation better. Maybe that terrifying voice floating around in my ears was right. I have to do better. I must do better.

A gap forms a few rows ahead of me. This is my shot. I make a break for the gap, ducking down under arms and shuffling between statue-like feet. For once, I’m happy that I’m not tall and lanky. It makes my escape to the front ten times easier. The faster I move, the more clearly I can see Sheriff Keller through the crowd. He doesn’t see me right away, he remains in his place maintaining the peace between the opposing groups. 

“SHERIFF KELLER!” I finally get to the front, standing face to face with him. He looks down at me, almost in disbelief, and he grows worried. I yell over the shouting voices around me, “I HAVE TO TALK TO YOU! IT’S ABOUT CHUCK AND MIDGE!” 

He comes down the steps, hovering over me. “Sabrina, what are you doing out here? This isn’t safe!”

“We have to go to the police station! You have to take me there!” I plea. He looks like he still doesn’t get it. I reach for his arms, “Please, Sheriff Keller! I need to confess!”

“Confess?” he scoffs. I attempt to drag him away from this scene, between the differing crowds. He won’t move. “Sabrina, what the hell are you talking about?”

I whip my head back at him, screaming, “I’M GUILTY! I WAS THERE WHEN CHUCK AND MIDGE DIED! I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING TO SAVE THEM! I’M THE REASON THEY’RE….”

Over the yelling, a small noise catches my attention, something like a cat’s meow. I glance around me, my ears beginning to ring. Mouths move, arms pump in the air. My heartbeat flies out of my chest. Up on the highest step of the town hall, I see a tiny black figure rest on its hindlegs. My limbs go numb. I feel dizzy. I could swear my nose has gone dry, like it could bleed.

“Sabrina?” Sheriff Keller waves his hand in front of my face. “Sabrina? Hey, what’s going on? What’s this about you being at the death scenes?”

_Don’t_ , a violent hiss rings in my head. Water forms in my eyes. I know it’s Salem, even from that far away. He lifts his head at me. _Don’t disgrace yourself like this, Sabrina. You can’t fix what’s already been done._ If I don’t leave now, if I can’t confess now, I may never get another chance. 

“I’m sorry.” I speak. While I make it look like I’m speaking to Sheriff Keller, I’m really speaking to Salem. “I have to do what’s right.” I take Sheriff Keller’s hand, lifting my head higher, and I start to head towards the open space. 

A high-pitched growl silences everything. An angry voice, one that only I can hear, booms.

  1. **_I WON’T LET YOU._**



Sharp electricity goes through me, freezing each limb, each organ. It’s so painful, but I can’t cry out for help. I can’t make a single noise, my mouth has gone numb. My eyes struggle to stay open. My ankles wobble, my arms shake. My head throbs. What has Salem done to me? At the other end of the crowd, a familiar pair of faces, a tall blonde and a shorter raven-haired girl, spot me. They say something, but I can’t read their lips, I can’t hear anything.

Everything slowly fades to black. I’m out cold before I hit the ground.

XXXXXXXX

Colors flash violently. Voices go in and out. Monsters dance. Animals fight. I hear my father telling me to stay strong. I hear my mother telling me to run, the same way she did the night of my birthday.

My eyelids feel heavy, like they were glued down to each other. It takes a little while to flutter them open, but when I do, it’s hard to see. I can vaguely make out a warm light to the side of me. Something above me circles at a rapid pace. Bed sheets cover my shivering body. I run my fingers along a blanket. While I absorb my surroundings, I can hear people whispering in low voices. 

_I’ve scanned every part of her brain. I don’t understand what could have caused her seizure. You don’t think this is Hal’s doing, is it? Alice…. I knew something was wrong that night, Hiram. I knew she wasn’t feeling well. Oh, why didn’t I pick up on it sooner?_

I come back to my senses. I feel hot and sweaty all of a sudden. A throb in my head kicks in. I wince at the pain. At the door frame, Aunt Ali and Mister Lodge look over at me. She’s been crying, I can see the wet streak marks on her cheeks. What were they talking about? What happened to me, where am I now? And….and who is Hal?

Something builds in my throat. I cough, tasting an unsettling sticky liquid in my mouth. I sniffle when Ali hurries over to my side. “Hey, honey.” she speaks to me in a calm tone, sitting down next to me. I try to sit up, but I get nauseous. She brings the back of her hand to my forehead. “It’s okay. Rest.”

I look around. How did we end up back in the trailer park? “Ali….” I sound weak. Beads of sweat form on my hairline. “What….what happened….”

“You had a seizure in front of town hall.” Mister Lodge explains, to my horror. I thought I could feel my limbs shake before I..... He pushes away from the door frame and comes to the edge of the bed. Out in the kitchen behind him, I spot V. She rushes into the room with a smile. Before she can say a word, Mister Lodge continues, “You were trying to get Sheriff Keller away from the protest outside the building when….” He pauses mid-sentence. He brings his hand to his mouth and pushes his fingers together. Can he not get the words out? 

Ali fills in the gaps for him. “Well, we can’t exactly figure out how or why it happened. It….it just did.” I finally notice the faint colors coming from the window. Pale orange, purple, and yellow reflect onto the bed sheets. It’s morning? How long have I been….

“We’re just happy you’re okay, ‘Brina.” V throws in. She moves away from her father and sits down on the bed next to Ali. “You kind of scared all of us. We thought you wouldn’t wake back up for a while.” A pit falls in my stomach. I guess I’m lucky I could force my eyelids to open. But how did it lead up to this?

Ali makes small circles on my wrist with her fingers. “Sabrina,” she starts, “do you….remember anything? Before you passed out? Do you know why you went to see Sheriff Keller?” I rest my head against the pillow. I need a second to wrap my head around the events from….I don’t know what day it is anymore. My sense of time has gone out of whack. But I need to remember. I went to see Sheriff Keller during a protest, I remember my classmates and their peers fighting for Chuck. I remember the sadness before I showed up to that protest. Midge Klump’s funeral. Moose crying at the diner. Jughead’s little sister sensing a connection to….Salem.

_He’s not an ordinary cat, is he?_

My fingers curl around the blanket. My heart could fly out of my chest. I went to own up to Chuck and Midge’s deaths to Sheriff Keller. I saw Salem at the steps of town hall. I collapsed when I heard him scream at me to stop. My mouth falls open, I struggle to breathe properly. That’s why I’m in this bed. Salem caused me to have a seizure. And….and now I think I’ve come down with a horrid sickness. It makes sense now. Salem doesn’t want me to accept the guilt like a coward. He doesn’t want me to leave him. He’d rather I die than separate myself from him.

I hear a small chirp rise from the kitchen. My nose flares. My eyes go to the source of the noise. Salem is sitting on the stove top, looking into the bedroom. His bright eyes meet mine. He doesn’t mutter a word, he just glares. He’s gotten what he wanted, and I don’t have the strength to fight back.

I fail to lift a finger at him, but I can feel my hand hover in his direction. “Stay away.” I hiss, it sounds more like a whisper. Ali raises her brow in confusion. V turns to her father. Salem chirps once more. I won’t let him play innocent anymore. 

I scream, “STAY AWAY FROM ME!” My voice creates a ripple of energy, shaking the entire trailer. The light on the drawer next to us flickers. Salem stands his ground, despite the ripple. I can’t believe him. He caused me to get sick! He destroyed my chance of letting Chuck and Midge pass peacefully. I’m flabbergasted. Disgusted. I feel betrayed. How could he act so cruelly? How could…. A wave of nausea hits me, I could throw up right here. I wheeze and gag, tears form in the corners of my eyes. Ali pulls me close and rubs my back. I wince when my body temperature fluctuates. Why won’t this pain go away?

Mister Lodge looks back out to the kitchen, noticing Salem on the stove top. “It’s the cat. We have to get it out of here.” He starts to march over to the kitchen. Salem perches up on his back legs and hisses at Mister Lodge.

V rises up from the bed, “Daddy, wait! Don’t touch him!” She rushes to her father’s side before he can get his hands on Salem. She steps out with her hands in front of her. “Not yet. Just….let me think of something.” I don’t quite understand what could V do to help the situation. Salem made me sick, what if she comes down with the same thing as me? What if she has a seizure too?

“V….” I cough, catching her attention. She tells her father to hold off on grabbing at Salem before she returns to the bed. She goes to my other side and takes my hand. Hot tears stream down my cheeks. “V….I don’t want Salem to hurt you.”

“He won’t.” she reassures me. “At least I don’t think he will. He’s calm around me.”

“What exactly are you suggesting, Veronica?” Ali inquires. V stares down at the bed sheets for a moment. She hasn’t vocalized her plan, but I think I know what she wants to do. I hate to admit it, but I’m at a crossroads here. I fear that she’ll fall down the same path as me. But V also is right - Salem has a bond with her. He finds peace in her presence, he won’t flip out or attack anyone. It’s like Salem sees something in V that I haven’t. Does it mean it would be a good idea? I have no clue. Maybe I should wait to see what Ali and Mister Lodge have to say about the matter. If V brings up the matter.

Eventually, V finds her voice, “Would it help if…..what if I looked after Salem? Just until Sabrina recovers?”

Ali doesn’t respond. She stops rubbing my back and grips my shoulder. Mister Lodge makes bull eyes at his daughter. “ _Mija_ , no.”

V jolts up. “I can do it, Daddy!” she protests. Then, she directs her case back to Ali and me, “I can make sure he gets fed and cared for properly. Whatever he needs, I can do it.” 

“We’ve never had pets in the house, _mija_.” Mister Lodge argues back. “We deal with familiars, not stray felines. I can’t risk you getting hurt. And how do you know if this cat’s not the one who---”

I see her fists curl. Little black lines appear between her knuckles. I only now realize that V’s pearls are not around her neck. The black and dark purple lines spread through her neck, into her jawline. With a sharp voice, V cuts her father off. “I KNOW WHAT I’M GETTING INTO, _PAPI_. I DON’T NEED YOU CHASTISING ME.” His lips close tightly, I see the concern on his face. He’s not fighting back. Has he seen V in this state before? He must have, otherwise V wouldn’t have her pearls. But why would he look so afraid? V calms down, the black lines fading away. She takes a deep breath, then she begs, “Please, Daddy. Let me do this.”

“It’s okay, Mister Lodge.” I sit up in the bed, fighting back a nauseous cough. He looks at me when I say, “I trust your daughter to look after Salem. He’ll be safe with her.” He sends a worried look to Ali, then he turns back to me. He gives me a sad nod of approval.

V smiles at me. “I’ll keep him out of trouble, ‘Brina. You focus on getting better.” With that, V leaves the bedroom and heads out to the kitchen. I watch as she picks up Salem and cradles him in her arms. I hear her mutter, in a low voice, “How would you like to come stay with me for a while, _pequeño duende_?” He lets out a gleeful squawk, causing her to giggle.

My headache returns. I can’t breathe out of my nose. Everything is either too hot or too cold. I feel achy and sore. I cough again.

Ali lays me down. “Shhh….you stay here.” She gets up from the bed to speak with Mister Lodge. “You keep me updated if anything happens with that cat. Okay?” He places his hand on her cheek and nods. They stay like this for a while, then, he eventually leaves the room, walking out of the trailer. Ali waits for the Lodges to disappear before she goes into the bathroom for something. She comes out with a damp towel and places it on my forehead. It’s cool to the touch. She cups my face and says to me, “Sounds like you need some chicken soup and tea.”

XXXXXXXX

**ALICE**

It’d be a little nice if I could hear from Hilda and Zelda. I’ve sent a message to them regarding Sabrina’s health since her rather violent seizure and unexpected illness. I keep asking for advice, I keep asking if I should just send her back to Greendale so she can recover under their care. I’ve sent a letter every day of this week. And what do I get in response? Nothing. Not a single word for days. It’s like my efforts to reach out are getting blocked intentionally, or the Spellmans are choosing to ignore their niece as punishment for her rebellion. Regardless of the circumstances, the silence is making me concerned.

And I’m trying like crazy to wean the poor girl back into good health. Pop allowed me to take the rest of the week off from work so I can look after her. During this time, I’ve given her herbal remedies, I’ve performed healing spells, I’ve stayed up to make sure that she didn’t go into more seizures. She’s beginning to recover rapidly, which is good, but the whole process is still nerve racking. The days have drained me. The late nights worrying, and the early mornings scrambling to put sentences together for Hilda and Zelda, leave me uneasy. On top of all of this, I’m still fighting off what Hal did to me at the school. I don’t feel as nauseous or faint as I did, which is a good sign. Yet, I wonder if whatever I came down with has rubbed off onto Sabrina. Sometimes I wonder if I should have done more to keep her safe the last night of Midge’s life.

Luckily, Gladys and FP have dropped by to bring us meals, so I haven’t felt a compelling need to constantly cook. Their boy drops off class notes and homework assignments for Sabrina, but I don’t think she’s touched anything school related all week. And Hiram….he’s kept me somewhat sane through it all. He’s there when I need to vent on the phone late at night. He’ll walk around town with me when I need to stretch my legs. He lets me borrow Edgar so I can send off messages to the Spellmans. He’ll come and eat with me when the absence of Sabrina’s liveliness kicks in. I mean, Gladys and FP come over to share meals with me too, but something about Hiram being there just….it soothes me. I don’t think I’d be able to get through it all if it weren’t for him. He provides a light to get me out of my darkness. I do feel awful for nagging him about feedback from the Spellmans. I know he can’t do much to speed up the process or to force the Spellmans into writing back. He’s not at fault here, I’m just anxious and I’m struggling to focus on another topic for the time being.

It’s finally the weekend, and Sabrina is showing major signs of improvement. Yesterday she was able to move around and get some schoolwork done without coughing up a storm or gagging. She doesn’t need me as much to look after her now, so I think I might give myself a break and leave the trailer, just for a little while. Earlier, Hiram and I agreed to change the view and spend time in his study at Pembrooke over coffee. We both want to get back into the Riverdale Reaper…..or should I just say it’s Hal, now that I know the truth? The revelation of the whole damn thing leaves me up at night, if I’m not already freaking out over Sabrina. I can’t have a peaceful sleep without seeing the Conways lying all motionless and bloody in their house. I can’t tell what disturbs me more - the fact that Hal murdered a family without any rhyme or reason, or the fact that it was Hal that killed those people and caused the mass hysteria. The first couple of days after Midge, I had trouble talking about what I saw to Hiram and the Joneses. I could recall the visions clearly in my head, but the words wouldn’t dare leave my mouth. My silent behavior freaked out JB the most. Last night, she had a little panic attack while paying me a visit because she thought I lost the light, that Hal stole it from me. That I’m about ready to give up on our mission because of what happened to me in that bathroom. The girl wept in my arms as I had to reassure her that I was still me. That Hal didn’t break me….not just yet. I had to carry her back to the Jones’ trailer when she fell asleep.

I stare up at the Jones’s trailer from my car, half contemplating if I should grab JB so she can join Hiram and me in our research. I’m back on my grind, I don’t have to worry so much over Sabrina, and I’m more than ready to find Hal’s Achilles’ Heel. But have I dragged the poor girl into a hole she may not get out of so easily? Maybe…..maybe not. I think for right now, I should let JB sleep in. Let her spend time with FP and Gladys. Let her enjoy her youth while she still has it. I finalize the decision when I pull out of the driveway, heading towards Pembrooke. 

An eerie sensation makes my bones ache. Is someone watching me? I glance around as I go to merge onto the main road. No one’s out…..except for a girl with pink hair. She stares at me just for a little while, then she turns away. Honestly, I’d go out and chase after her, just to see what she wants, but I have my priorities elsewhere for now. I push the image of the girl out of my head and keep driving.

The main street of downtown is quiet when I park my car. I send a quick text to Sabrina to let her know of my whereabouts, just in case for whatever reason she needs me to return. I shove my phone back into my purse and glance around the street. The only people moving around at this time in the morning are some patrons at the coffee shop, a pair of joggers buzzing by with their headphones on, and a familiar face coming down the steps of Pembrooke to greet me.

The coffee is bitter when I sip on it, despite the amount of sugar packets I throw in. Okay, it’s not that bitter, but my mood is. My fingers cling to the warm ceramic cup when Hiram gives me the update on my newest letter. I sigh in frustration, “So….nothing?”

“If I had any word by now, Edgar would have dropped the letter on my desk, Alice.” he reasons with me. I’m not taking it out on him, I don’t want it to come off that way. I just keep my mouth shut and bite my lip. He folds his hands on top of his desk, “Believe me, I’m equally concerned about the lack of communication. This isn’t like Zelda and Hilda to remain this radio silent. Especially when it comes to Sabrina’s health.”

I release my lip at the last part. I set my cup down on the little table next to me, and I get up from the loveseat. I start pacing back and forth in front of the fire, “Are they just pissed at me, or her? Do they think that not responding back is a form of…..unspoken punishment?” I’m ranting at this point, but I’m only trying to make sense of my thoughts here.

Hiram tilts his head at me. “What could they resent you for? Breathing?” I let out a stifled, angry laugh and point a finger at him.

“I wish that was it, but it’s more than that.” My finger falls to my side. I stop pacing for a second and just glance into the fire. I can’t bear to look at him now….okay, it’s actually that I don’t want him to see me fall apart. Again. For the millionth time. I clasp my hands together without much thought. I’m preoccupied on the topic of conversation. I feel the dryness in my throat when I speak, “They probably think that I’m not fit to look after a child. That….letting me care for Sabrina is just a test, only to prove that I’m incapable. That I’ll never be as good as them, and that…..” I have to stop talking, right now I’m rambling with no point. I chew on my tongue to slow myself down. To get myself to quit thinking so negatively. But my fears are valid, aren’t they? Long before Sabrina’s birthday, I remember talking with Zelda about how the younger generation behaved. It took place in my shop, just after a few teenagers from Baxter rushed out with sweets and a cringy fortune I gave to scare them all straight. I can’t exactly recall what was said, mostly because I blocked out half of it, but what she implied that day didn’t, and still doesn’t, sit with me right.

_You’re going to have kids of your own at some point, am I correct? You don’t have that many years left, since you're a half-breed._

I still question to this day if she considered my mixed blood as an indicator of being a bad mother. It’s not that I never contemplated the idea of wanting a child, but…. I did think about having a child back when I was still a young witch, back when Hal didn’t exist in my life. Being with Hal changed that. I was petrified of getting close to people, creating an offspring that I couldn’t protect, that I couldn’t admit the truth of my past to. I didn’t want that child to recognize its mother as a monster. That notion kept me isolated up until Sabrina came into the picture. And the more I came to get to know her family, her wants and fears, what I needed to do to step up as a motherly figure for her, how I should view….

I rotate my head over my shoulder to look at Hiram. “How can you do it?” my voice leaves my body as a wounded whisper. He doesn’t quite understand the question at first, so I have to fill in the gaps. “How have you been able to raise Veronica all on your own?” His gaze goes distant towards the fire. His fingers curl on top of the desk, his face furrows. 

The period of silence passes, and he rises from his seat. He presses his palms downward, hanging his head low. I hear him mutter, “It’s not a walk in the park, Alice. That’s for sure.” I watch him lift his head back up and move around his desk to come next to me. “Every day is a challenge when it comes to raising her. I’m either too demanding of her, or….I can’t stop her before she flies too close to the sun. It took me a long while to figure out how to behave the way a parent should….” He pauses for a moment, his gaze still at the flames in the fireplace. He looks caught up in a memory, I’m guessing it might be something involving Hermione.

Eventually, Hiram finds his voice again. “I applauded Hermione for having that motherly instinct in her. I knew I wanted to be a father, but….the fact that it took Hermione dying for me to finally step up as Veronica’s father, to really, truly care for her….” He goes quiet, he sounds like he could break down. I could say something, to dissuade him of this self-deprecation. But I don’t say anything. I just take a gentle hold of his hand. That finally brings him to face me. “I blamed myself for years if Veronica did something wrong. I believed that any of her acts of rebellion, her troubles at school, were a bad reflection of my parenting. I believed it was proof…”

I end up tuning him out. Not that I don’t mean to, but I’m getting back into my head. His words reflect my thoughts, almost exactly. How can you protect a child if you don’t know how to love them? And how can you love them if that child isn’t yours to begin with?

Hiram eventually picks up on my silence and stops speaking. He blinks at me a few times, the confused face morphs into something more wondering. He asks, “You’re worried that the Spellmans will blame you?” I have to take my eyes off of him. I don’t have the slightest idea of how to respond. Will they blame me for Sabrina refusing the Path of Night? Will they blame me for bonding with her over being half-witches? Will they blame me if she…..if she…. I let go of his hand and start pacing again. I stay silent at first, but Hiram throws in, “You think they will pin their troubles on you?”

I throw my hands up in the air. “I don’t know!” I fire back at him, more harshly than I anticipated. I can feel my heartbeat elevating with my anxiety. I need to calm down, but the nagging voice in the back of my head keeps telling me otherwise. I ramble while burying my head into the space between my arms, “I know they’ll say I didn’t do enough. Every little thing I’ve done to help her grow up within the last few years, including now, will be seen as an offense to the Church. They’ll think I ruined the Spellman Family reputation.”

“But you haven’t.” Hiram addresses me calmly. My hands move to my hair, my nails dig in. I shut my eyes….. _Daisies and candles. Do what Gladys said. Daisies and candles._ I see Hiram’s feet in front of my own. I feel his hands float like feathers across my forearms. “Alice, look at me.” I hesitate to lift my head up, I don’t want him to see me so panicked. Then after a moment or two, I bring my eyes to meet his. “You have not tarnished Miss Spellman’s reputation, or her family’s. You are not to blame for her time spent here.” Water begins to creep into the corners of my eyes. No….the last thing I need to do now is cry. And I’ve already cried enough.

“What about her getting sick?” I choke out. “They’ll find a way to blame me for that.”

He scoffs. “Like they’ve never fallen ill a day in their praised lives.” he blesses to add emphasis to his point. “This is your first time caring for her on your own. You’re still learning. They should not be allowed the right to judge you for simply looking after her.” A dark thought creeps into my consciousness. It makes my eyes bulge, it freezes my jaw. The words echo in my brain. _She’s recovering, but what if she relapses? What if she dies?_

He must have read my thoughts, because he removes my hands from their tight grip on my hair and eases them into his own. “Sabrina will recover, Alice. She’s a strong, young witch. She’ll turn out just fine.” On one hand, he is right. Sabrina’s gained back some of her spunk in the past two days. I think it’s helped that the cat isn’t around…. Crap. I almost forgot about the cat entirely. Hiram’s daughter offered to look after him, that I do remember. But if I have confirmed what I think happened to the damn thing….and in regard to Hiram’s history with me….

“And Hal?” I sound so dead, I half-scare myself. And I think I scare Hiram too. My eyes lose the intense bulging, but my jaw still feels tight, even when I’m grinding my teeth back and forth. A gulp of saliva runs down my throat before I vocalize the possibilities. “If they find out about Hal, and they tell her before I get the chance…..or if he kills her, and I have to….” My voice gives out. The water in my eyes begs for release. I have to bark myself down. _No, Alice. Do not cry. You’re stronger than this. You need to stay strong. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…._

Too late. I don’t make any noise, but I can feel the tears streaming down my hot cheeks. And it’s all unfolding right in front of him. I’m so embarrassed right now. Granted, it’s not the first time I’ve shed tears to Hiram Lodge, but this time it’s like I’m committing a grand scandal. Like I’ve been caught for a crime and I know now my cruel fate. I want to stay strong, I want to develop a better poker face and keep my emotions together. But the more power Hal obtains, the weaker I feel. The more vulnerable I am. It’s the reality check that I’ve been avoiding for the past 25 years.

Thumbs press down on the bags under my eyes. They wipe away stray tears, they stroke my cheeks. Fingertips dance along my jawline. My sniffles die out at his touch. “He will not do a thing to her.” he mutters to me. “We will catch him in time before he lays another finger on you. Before he lays a finger on our girls. And if the Spellmans want to blame you, then….they will have to blame me too.” He speaks with such confidence, affirming his decision with each word leaving his mouth. It calms me down, but I can still feel tears leaving my eyes. I’m not as emotional as I was when Hiram made his vow to me weeks ago, that’s a given. Yet, it shocks me all the same. He’s promised a shield of protection for me. He’s pledged his loyalty to me. I would have never believed him if he pulled this stunt back in our younger years….

I’m letting my mind go out of control again. My string of thought has fallen off a beaten path. Damn it, I thought I’d taken the necessary steps to maintain a state of tranquility. I take in a sharp inhale of air, I can feel my lungs swell up. A short exhale comes out in the form of a scoff. “So much for my daily meditating practice.” I tease in an attempt to lighten the topic of conversation. When he raises a brow at me, I clarify my point, “I’m trying to get back into it….not that I was really ever into it, but….I’m doing it to calm myself down.” I pause for a second to gesture to my puffy, wet face, “And clearly, it has not worked.”

He takes his fingers off of my face, leaving one hand lifted by his face. His fingertips swirl, like he’s in deep thought. They move together quickly to produce a snapping noise. He redirects his focus onto me and points a finger. “I may have a better approach.” Then, he moves to the middle of his study, fixing his shirt along the way. He points over to another area of his shelves, “I have some records over there. Pick out which one you want to put on.” Before I can ask what he’s planning on doing with said records, Hiram lowers down to the wood floor and lays flat.

Well this is different. And really confusing. I stare at him all funny. “You’re…..lying on the floor.”

“That’s the point.” he fires back with a smirk. “I’m serious, Alice. Put on any of my albums. I’ve got everything from Tchaikovsky, to Sinatra, to The Police. So, pick your poison.” My eyes go over to the supposed shelf of records. They’re all stacked neatly on top of one another, categorized by genre, I’m guessing, or by artist, I can’t tell from this far away. I teeter on my toes as I float over to these records, running my fingers along the wooden shelves. So he does have them categorized - first by genre, then subcategorized by artist. I scan through each layer, reading the names on the covers. I don’t want anything too upbeat and filled with sing-songy lyrics, yet I’m not in the mood for something that’s seriously classical. Mellow….yeah, that’s what I need right now, just something mellow. 

One record on the shelf catches my eye. I have to hold back a chuckle as I remove the record from its coveted spot between ABBA and The Eagles. Since when did Hiram listen to the Bee Gees? Let alone have any interest in _Saturday Night Fever_ ? Okay, I confess, the movie sucks but the soundtrack redeems it. A few of the songs are featured on the playlists Ambrose made for my bakery. Gladys and I danced around Pop’s to the one Yvonne Elliman song on the soundtrack. Oh, screw it. I could use some happy music. I yank the vinyl disk out of the sleeve and place it onto the record player over in the other corner. I wait for it to start spinning before I set the pin down on a random spot. The last minute of _Staying Alive_ echoes in the room, transitioning onto the next track, which is much slower. I wait a second or two, then I take my place next to Hiram on the floor.

The breeze from the ceiling fan drifts downward. The music bounces off the walls. My hands rest on top of my stomach, my eyes flutter shut. Should I attempt to do my breathing exercises here? Maybe get some sleep? I open my eyes again, staring up at the ceiling while I talk with him. “So…..what is this supposed to do?”

“It may take a while to settle in.” he replies. “But it’s meant to be a reset button. A way to recharge magic.” I dig my head further into the wood, rolling it up and down. Then, I rotate my head over to him, and he copies my motion. “When I use Blue on you, do you hear the music?” I stay quiet for a moment, filing back through my recent memories until I think I grasp what he’s asking me. _Adagio in G Minor_. The Tchaikovsky song. I nod my head. “All that music comes from doing this.” he says, using a finger to make an imaginary circle. It takes me a bit to realize that he’s referring to the music coming out of the record player. “I lay here on the floor and absorb the sounds around me. I spend hours down here, even after the records stop playing. Lately, I just do it to help me fall asleep. Veronica’s caught me a couple of times when she’s getting ready to go to bed.” 

“You think it’s insomnia?”

“Maybe. But I would rather have my daughter catch me laying on the floor instead of sitting out in the main room drinking rum at 3 am.” He ends the sentence with a playful smoulder. I have to look away from him to keep myself from laughing. I really shouldn’t be mocking his late night tendencies, I struggle with the insomniatic urges too. There have been nights where I can’t fall asleep and I sit in my bed letting my mind wander. Every time, the thoughts go back to the past, to Hal. On those nights, I consider herbal remedies, or any depressant, to shut my brain up, but I’m unsuccessful. I resort to taking walks around my neighborhood, or I bake a few pastries and get ready to open shop in the mornings. 

I see why this method of meditating works for him. The music overpowers the inner voices. Laying on the floor numbs the body. I can see the effects working on me now. My eyelids grow heavy. My brain doesn’t produce one bad thought or replay any bad memories. Over the background lyrics, Hiram asks, “Are you starting to feel better?” The stiffness overtaking my face decreases. I lazily glare up at the ceiling fan before I bring my cheek down to the wood.

I can feel his breath on me. His hand is so close to my own, our fingertips could touch if I just move an inch closer to him. For the first time, I’m not worrying over Sabrina. I’m not hyper fixating on my past with Hal. I’m not figuring out how to fight for my life. For the first time, the only thing I focus on is the color of Hiram’s eyes, the smoothness of his skin, the lyrics of this song that play when I look at him.

_And you may not think I care for you_

_When you know down inside_

_That I really do_

I respond back, “It’s nice.” His eyes go up to meet mine. To my surprise, they’re soft. Maybe the softest I’ve ever seen his eyes, or maybe I just haven’t paid any attention to how he’s looked at me when we’re together. Now I do.

Without much thought, I slide my fingers across the floor to graze them against his. One finger curls around mine, more fingers reach for my palm. Teen Alice would wig out. She wouldn’t want anyone near her. And yet, I still craved touch. I just needed to break my walls down on my own terms. I needed someone to trust, to understand my fragile state of mind. Maybe I still do.

I rest my palm over his, I slide my fingers in between his. I didn’t expect his hand to feel so warm, but it is, and it’s calming. His thumb strokes over the first knuckle on my hand. His smirk fades into a gentle smile. Am I losing my mind, or is my heart pounding louder? My blood pulses through my veins at a faster rate. I shift myself closer to him, and he follows in suit. We tap our foreheads together. I squeeze my eyes shut and take a moment to absorb what’s happening, how I’m reacting.

“Not that you really needed to know this, but….” he breathes out, breaking our little moment of silence. “You’re kind of the only person I’ve done this with…..since I did this with my mother. She introduced me to the idea of it when my witchcraft kicked in. A majority of those records belonged to her.” I can hear the pain in his voice. 

“You could do Blue that early on?”

“Yeah. I had to use it on myself quite often after my mother passed. I wore the spell out so much, I became so weak. I had to resort to other types of music, hence the extensive collection.” A strand of hair falls into my face, forcing my eyes to open. I watch as Hiram lifts his hand to slide the hair strand behind my ear. “The different music genres help to strengthen it. I’ve even had some inspiration to listen to new artists, thanks to my daughter. But she hasn’t joined me to sit in on my recharging. Nobody has. Just you.” The bottom of his palm sits on my cheek. I can’t help but bring my free hand to squeeze onto his forearm. The corners of my mouth lift. He’s sharing more of his world with me, he’s letting me in on the secret of how he ticks. Underneath our words, the song repeats its chorus over and over.

_‘Cause we’re living in a world of fools_

_Breakin’ us down_

_When they all should let us be_

One thought lingers in the back of my brain. If he sits in his study with this musical meditating practice,and I am the only person to take part in it…. I mutter to him, “Don’t you get lonely?”

He can’t really shake his head to indicate a “no”, so he makes the expression with his eyes. “At this point, I’m used to it. Actually gets comfortable the more you start doing it.”

“You find a wooden floor comfortable?” I tease him. He nods at me, bringing back his smirk. “So….you’re telling me, you don’t find it creepy laying in here by yourself?” He gives his head a baby shake. I think he’s catching on to my wordplay here, but I keep going just to entertain myself. “Really? And you don’t go mad hearing your own heartbeat on this floor, thinking it might belong to someone else?”

That causes him to cackle. “Wow. Little morbid there, Edgar Allen Poe.” My nose crinkles when I giggle. My fingers patter on the fabric of his cardigan. His thumb glides across my cheek. It’s at least a good thing to know that Hiram isn’t living _The Tell-Tale Heart_. Although, I could see him as a bibliophile staying up at night, reading a story about a man going mad----

A man going mad. Sheriff Howard. The Conways. HAL.

I go upright. The record cuts off. My hand goes to my chest as it rises up and down. “Alice?” Hiram sits up and places his hand on my back. “What is it? Did he go after someone else?” I can’t form words right away, I’m trapped in that one thought. How did I not put the pieces together before?

“Alice….”

“When did Howard reopen the case?” I cut him off. I have to catch my breath for a second before I keep rolling, “Tom Keller said Howard re-investigated the Conway Massacre. When did it happen?” Hiram sits on my rapid firing of questions to process it all. I did come at him rather quickly with it, but if what I’m thinking is correct….it may be one step closer to uncracking how to destroy Hal.

“Keller said he was looking into it up until his death---”

He’s not getting what I’m asking. So, I jump in with, “Was it before or after I left?” He looks away from me. He’s got his mind on something, I can see it in his face. 

“It must have been after. Because with our classmates dead, and no killer to be found, he would have wanted to find a connection, so that’s why he went to the house….” His hand leaves my back and falls to the floor. His face falls. 

He looks at me with a fearful realization in his eyes. “Hal was in the house during Howard’s investigation.” The horror goes away, it finally clicks in his head. “Unholy shit.” Hiram immediately stands up, taking my hand so I too can be back on my feet. “Howard went in the house after you trapped Hal in there.”

“That’s why he went crazy!” I grasp onto both of his forearms. “Hal wouldn’t have wanted Howard to find out the truth, so he deliberately drove the man mad.” On one hand, I pity Howard for the mental torture he endured in his final years, but on the other hand…. I begin thinking out loud, “Howard would have kept records on his research. Keller said he was trying to find an answer, a reason for Hal to commit those murders. If he did find anything, it’d have to be somewhere…..” My voice trails off, my mind goes elsewhere. Who in town would be aware of where Howard kept his research? I don’t know if Howard’s family would still be residing in town, I could look, but it might be a waste of time. But…. “Keller might know.”

Hiram scoffs. “Alice, you can’t be serious.”

My hands go up to his biceps. “Keller took over the position of Sheriff after Howard. Maybe he dealt with the paperwork Howard left behind.” I find myself stepping in closer to Hiram, cupping his face with one hand. “Look, I know approaching Tom sounds sketchy, believe me….but I think this time, we may need his help.”

“Why bother?” My hand leaves his face. Does he think I’m crazy? I go to ask, but he jumps in with, “I mean….why should we confront Tom Keller when we have the Conway House, empty and at our disposal?” I really don’t get what he suggests. Are we going back to summon Howard’s spirit, or are we….. Oh. OH.

Hiram explains, “Think about it, Alice. Howard would have left some of it there, assuming Hal didn’t obliterate every word of it to pieces. If we’re lucky, Howard’s research may still be there. And we’d be one step closer to unsolving everything.” My mouth hangs. Well, I certainly didn’t think of that. And it could work. We may get our shot. 

My lips curl up, my eyes light up. I squeal in delight. “Hiram, you brilliant bastard!” I take a hold of his face and lean in to one side. My eyes shut, my opposite hand curls into his hair as I kiss his cheek. It happens so fast, I stay there. My mouth hovers next to his cheek, I can feel his blood pulsing in my fingertips. I pull back slightly…. He’s staring at me in wonder. Did I say something to offend him? Did my actions startle him? No….no, he’s not looking at me because of that. His eyes soften. His lips go from a neutral line to a small semicircle. His hand lifts to caress my jawline. My heartbeat slows. The rhythm of my breathing matches his. The voices in my head go inaudible. It’s like time has stopped. I’m at peace, and so is he.

There’s a rapt at the study doors. It breaks our moment, startling us both. We just stand there for a second to come back to the present, to recognize that somebody is on the other side of that door, wondering what we’re up to. The knocking occurs again, this time accompanied by a voice. “Daddy?”

I sigh in relief. It’s only Veronica. I squeeze Hiram’s arm and speak to him in a whisper. “You talk to your daughter. I’ll get what we need.”

He nods. “My tool bag should be by my desk.” We let each other go, accepting that whatever we just experienced, what we may feel….it’ll have to get addressed later. I start rummaging through Hiram’s desk to search for the bag of divination tools. He goes over to the study doors and yanks it open. He stands with one hand on the door and the other on his hip, glaring down at his daughter. “Yes, _mija_?”

“I….” the young girl stutters, “I was checking to see if you were okay. I heard loud noises.” I spot the bag resting against the desk on the floor. I grab at it, then I hurry over to where Hiram is standing. Veronica’s stunned to see me. “Oh. Hi. I didn’t….”

“Sorry for scaring you, sweetheart.” I jump in to diffuse the tension. I act playful with my next sentence, “Your father and I just came up with a good way to celebrate Sabrina’s recovery and I got a little too excited. That’s all.” The girl seems to buy it. I glance over at Hiram and give him a wink. His cheeks go red.

I grab for his hand and start to make our way out of the study. “But we should probably get going before we lose track of time.” I struggle to sling the bag over my shoulder. What the hell does he carry in this thing? 

“Hang on.” Hiram stops us from moving. I watch him step forward and gesture back to the study. “Veronica, could you toss me my keys? They’re on my desk.” The girl blinks at us all confused, then she mutters an Okay and goes into the study to retrieve his keys. When she disappears, he tells me, “We have the family car in the garage downstairs. We can get there faster. Are you alright with that?”

So the Lodges don’t always use a chauffeur to make their way around town. That’s news to me. I go to say something back, but Veronica’s out of the study with Hiram’s keys in her hand. She rolls her hand back counterclockwise to underhand toss the keys to him. “I’ll make sure no one breaks in, Daddy. And I know who to call otherwise.”

“Good.” he gives her a thumbs up. “Only call me if you need something.” His grip on my hand tightens, I feel my feet going backwards. We begin to head towards the door, both of us building on the anticipation of our recent discovery.”

“Wait, Alice.” Veronica calls for me. I stop suddenly, and I glance over my shoulder at the girl. She hustles over to me, then stops just a few feet in front of me. I let go of Hiram’s hand. Veronica turns to her father for a quick second, “I won’t hold you two up, Daddy. I just need to….”

“It’s fine, _mija_.” I feel Hiram remove the tool bag from my shoulder. I watch him sling it over his own shoulder as he tells me, “I’ll be by the elevator at the end of the hall.” He heads out the door, leaving me in the doorway of Pembrooke. What could Veronica want? Does she want to know about Sabrina?

I face the young Lodge. “Everything okay, sweetheart?”

She looks a bit dazed. Her mind is elsewhere. She blinks at me a couple of times, then she focuses in. “Yeah, I…..I was supposed to pass a message onto you. From….um….” My good mood starts to fade, getting traded in for unease. Who wants to give me a message, and why is it coming from Veronica? More importantly….where is Sabrina’s cat? Veronica glances at her door from a distance before she can tell me this supposed message. With a dead voice, she completes her messenger duty. “He says he misses you. That one way or another, he’ll find his way back to you.”

I….I don’t know what to say. I don’t understand a word that came out of her mouth. Who misses me? Who wants me…. My heartbeat quickens. My eyes wander over to that girl’s bedroom door. Is Hal communicating through that cat? No….that can’t be the case. Just because he may have tainted the cat, he couldn’t be that insidious to speak to the girls? Besides, how would Veronica hear that cat’s thoughts? Something else is at play here. Something has to explain why Hal found his way to my trailer that night….

That will have to wait for another time. Right now, my focus is on the Conway House, and what Howard left behind. I nod at the girl, not saying a word. I could ask more, but I don’t want to stay another minute alone in Pembrooke, especially with that cat nearby. Luckily, Veronica takes the hint. She backs away from me and says, “I’ll let you get going. Stay safe.” Then, she hurries back into the sanctuary of her bedroom.

Well, that was odd. Veronica didn’t seem as confident or as vocal as she normally is. I wonder if Midge Klump’s death has affected her too. She looks drained, exhausted. I’m not sure if cat-sitting for Sabrina is doing her any wonders. But what do I know? I barely give the cat the time of day. Maybe it is innocent after all.

I can’t leave Hiram waiting, so I head out the Lodge’s front door and shut it. I spot Hiram down at the other end by the elevator, just like he described. The uneasy notion in me disappears, my positive attitude returns when I see him. My pace quickens as I make my strides toward him. By the time I’m next to him, he presses the button on the wall to call for the shaft. The elevator chimes, the doors open. We jump in and cue the shaft to go down to the lobby.

“Penny dreadful for your thoughts?” he asks me after a brief period of silence. My mind still tries to wrap around the words that came out of Veronica’s mouth. Did she refer to the cat after all? Is my head playing tricks on me? Hiram taps my forearm, “What did Veronica want?”

I come up with a fast excuse. “Just curious to know how Sabrina was holding up. That’s all.” I turn to face him, and I send him a reassuring wink. He buys it, so I can breathe again. I glance down at the set of keys in his hand. Now I’m getting curious about this car.

“Also, I forgot to answer your question.” I instigate the shift of conversation. He raises his brow at me, all intrigued. So, I lead in, “We can go in your car. Only if you let me drive, Manhattan.” I go to reach for the keys in his hands. But Hiram sees what I’m attempting, and he pulls his hand away. He shakes his head at me and smirks. Oh, that’s how he’s going to play this game.

I step in front of him, Hiram lifts the keys into the air. I jump up in an attempt to grab them, but thump back down to the ground. I rest my forehead on his shoulder and break out into laughter. He uses his free hand to take my own. Then, he leans in to my ear, his voice lowering, “Allow me to play chauffeur for once, Acid Queen Alice. You deserve a break.” My head raises to look at him. My brows raise. Is he flirting with me? He has the same glow on his face from when we had dinner together at Lenny’s. He has the same attitude from the pep rally. Those warm eyes of his hold a spark in them. A wave of electricity runs through me, one I haven’t experienced since I was in high school. So he is trying to flirt with me. 

The elevator chimes, I whip my head at the source of the noise. The doors open again, revealing the pristine white lobby. I wait a second or two, then I cock my head at him. I lift a finger in the air. “One time. You get away with flirting with me one time.” I worry for a moment that I may wound him, but he curls his lips upward.

“So I’m going to be in trouble down the road, aren’t I?” 

I playfully scowl at him and let out a cackle. I keep his hand tact into mine, and I lead him out of the elevator, sprinting towards the outside world.

XXXXXXXX

**SABRINA**

I’m actually quite glad I have the trailer to myself. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate Ali spending so much time watching over me until I recover from this sickness. But right now, I could use the quiet, and I need the solitude. It gives me a peaceful environment so I can stay focused on the multitude of schoolwork I have to catch up on. It’s crazy to think that midterms are coming up soon, and Christmas is not so far behind. Also, I need the time alone to reflect on the past few weeks.

Ali and I have been in Riverdale for a month. One full month. No one from Greendale or the Church of Night has tried to persuade us to return, except for that incident with the Dark Lord. I also realize that while I miss Harvey, Roz, and Susie, I have found good friends here in Riverdale. I found another half-witch, I’m helping an aspiring journalist, I listen to a football player’s original music, and I….. And I killed two of my classmates. I killed two of the most popular people in my grade year. The town is mourning, either sitting at home in prayer or out on the streets protesting. Jughead informed me on one of his visits that the protests over Chuck have leveled out, but with a price. The police are reopening his case, claiming it finally as a murder. It’s a can of worms they decided to release, but the police figure it might be what ends the unrest. According to Jughead, a rumor is circulating in town that Sheriff Keller may resign from his position at the police station. We don’t know for certain, Jughead said Kevin won’t talk with anyone at school, but Sheriff Keller may only work Chuck’s case as his last stint. Moose has been brought in on multiple occasions to recall his attack to see if any patterns appear in both Chuck and Midge’s deaths. Even Jughead vocalized his fear of putting these events into the Blue and Gold. Everything is going to hell, quite literally. It’s like the Dark Lord wanted this to happen, to prove that I should just go down the Path of Night and sign my name away. I hate it.

I glance down at my half-written assignment for English class, a three paragraph analysis on the newest chapter discussed of _Wuthering Heights_. I read the book back home a year prior, when Roz and I tried to start a book club. It just ended up being the two of us, and we had heated debates over whether or not Heathcliff deserved redemption. I laugh at the memory, then I wind up coughing. I still have a lingering tickle in my throat, and every once in a while, my head throbs, but for the most part, I’m getting back to normal. I think it’s helped that Salem is not running free in this trailer. I have to thank V for getting him away. Maybe it could do him some good to be under new discipline, seeing as if I failed to condition him. Although, I haven’t heard from V since my seizure. How is she doing with Salem? Is he manipulating her to strike at anyone who looks at her funny? I have to shut out the bad thoughts, I fear it could make my illness worse. I need my energy now. Once I’m done catching up on schoolwork, I need to find Jughead and get back to his article. I need to uncover what exactly went down 50 years ago, and when Ali went to Riverdale High.

I pound out this last paragraph for my assignment, not putting much thought to it. I just spew out a few proper grammatically-correct sentences essentially calling Heathcliff a sick, screwed-up monster who needs to move on. When I finish, I get up from the kitchen table, grab my coat from the back of my chair, and walk out the front door. The cold air greets me when I rush down the steps and pivot in the direction of the Jones’s trailer. Snow crunches under my feet. My teeth chatter out of habit. I just hope Jughead is here and not at the library, or at the police station getting into trouble. I fly up the steps and hesitate for a moment before I bang on the front door. I’m relieved when it’s Jughead who answers the door.

His eyes go wide in excitement, his grin goes from ear to ear. He adopts Dr. Frankenstein’s voice, “She’s alive….SHE’S ALIVE!”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t make me cough on you, weirdo.” He snorts at me and shuttles me into the trailer. I spy his laptop and a bunch of history books all laid out on the coffee table. Papers are scattered along the couch. So he’s been busy with….his article? I hope so. I go over to the couch and grab for the closest sheet of paper, covered with scratched out notes and random words. Yet, the more I look at the random words, I realize that they have some correlation to one another. The Riverdale Reaper. 

“Already back on your feet, Teenage Witch?”

I look back up at Jughead. “You can’t tackle that article on your own, Jughead. I’m not going to let some illness stop me from helping you.” I sit down on the couch, shoving some of the papers out of my way, and take a closer look at what’s written on this paper. 

Jughead plops down next to me. “Oh, don’t bother trying to make sense of that. I scratched it all out for a reason.” He snatches the paper from my hands and replaces it with scanned copies from a town history book. Attached to the scanned pages are newspaper clippings. “I think there’s a pattern, Sabrina.” he begins his pitch, pointing down to the top part of the page. “Look at the date of the clippings.” 

I squint my eyes to read the fine print. My eyes widen, my lips part. It’s from 1992, Ali was in school during that time, I think. Jughead goes on, “That’s 25 years after the Reaper killings. Then, 25 years after that….” He makes a rolling motion with his hands. He wants to see if I’m catching onto his theory. I am.

“Chuck and Midge die.” Jughead plops down another scanned newspaper article into my hands, one dated from 1992. One section is circled with highlighter detailing a horrific car accident late at night. The driver lived, but she wound up never being able to walk again….. This is V’s mom. The same girl from that dream I had. This is about her.

“Not even 48 hours later, the Xanadu of Riverdale burns to the ground.” I glance up at Jughead, not quite catching the reference. He clarifies with a sigh, “Thornhill, on the other side of town? The Blossoms’ grand estate?” Oh, now that makes sense. I forgot he mentioned the fire earlier. With all that’s going on, the thought of the Blossoms escaped my mind completely.

Blossoms…. There was a Blossom who went after anyone who matched the smallest description of the Reaper. Rose, yes! That was her name! Rose Blossom! She was still alive, allegedly. But where? Where could she have gone after that horrific fire?

“You said Rose Blossom survived the fire, right?” He nods. I shift onto my side, placing the stack of articles down on the coffee table. “What if we looked into where she is now? I know we talked about holding off any sort of meeting due to our schedules, but….” I stumble on my words. Back then, I knew why we couldn’t search for Rose Blossom right away, but now….I put my conflict six feet under. I hang my head, “but I don’t see myself jumping back into cheerleading any time soon.” Great. Here I go again, moping around, just when I thought I could stay positive. Not wanting to maintain this sour mood, I lift my head and try to sound optimistic. “Sorry. I’ll stop talking about Midge. I think the only way I can let her rest in peace is to solve the Reaper case.” Once the words come out of my mouth, I take a moment to catch my breath. I watch as Jughead lets his hands fall into his lap.

“You still think Salem is attached to it?”

“He came out of the Conway House, Jughead!” I exaggerate with my hands. “The place reeks of tragedy. Honestly, I’d go back there to investigate further, but I kind of want to avoid that place for now.” And it’s the truth. I really don’t feel like wandering around the places where Salem has hidden. I don’t want to go anywhere associated with Salem. Maybe my familiar has been touched by something demonic. Maybe Jughead was right by looking at all those demonology books, even if they were hexed. It could come to help, in the worst case scenario. 

I huff. “I think the safest option for now would be to see Rose Blossom. If we ever find out where Rose Blossom lives.” Jughead sits on the thought for a moment, then he lets out a chuckle. It throws me off guard.

“Funny you mention that….” Jughead leans forward to grab his laptop on the table. He sets it down on one leg so I can have a good view of his screen. I read the label at the top of this webpage. Sisters of Quiet Mercy…..why does that name sound familiar?

Jughead prompts the question, “Remember that Dungeons and Dragons-knock-off game I wrote about?” I blink, waiting for the memory to come back. Then it hits me. The game came from the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. I nod my head, and he continues, tapping his finger at the screen. “This is the place. It used to operate as a mental ward and orphanage up until about the 90s. Whole reason it got shut down was due to the illegal practices. You know, One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest level shit. Torturing patients. Gay conversion therapy. You name it. Well, the whole joint became a nursing home in the last two decades. And THIS is where our person of interest lives currently.” A wide smile appears on my face. This is amazing! We now know the location of one of the original residents of Riverdale!

I have to wonder, though. Did Jughead conduct all of this research while I was preoccupied with my cheer situation? I beg the question, “How did you find all of this?”

Jughead leans back against the couch and sighs. He readjusts the beanie on his head. “Bit of a long story, so bear with me. Part of the reason I wrote the article about Gryphons and Gargoyles was because I….um….I played the game as a kid. I was in a band with a couple of Serpents. They were all older than me, but they still let me play with them.” He smiles at the memory. I sit there amazed. So….Jughead did have friends in the Serpents? The smile fades as he explains, “Well, it was all innocent at first. Role playing, unlocking challenges, stupid dares. But then, this game spread nationwide, and….kids started dying out of nowhere. Poisoning their drinks so they could “ascend” into the world of the game. Towns had to ban the game entirely, which means….my team could no longer play.” It hurts to hear the pain in his voice. Now I get why he doesn’t blend in well with the other kids at school, except for me and Archie. The friends he made all left. He lost the one thing that could make him feel like he belonged. I reach for his hand, platonically, of course, and squeeze it. I think of a nonverbal spell to send him my sympathies.

“It’s fine, Sabrina.” he chuckles off the sad notion. “I couldn’t hang with them anymore anyways. They left town once they graduated and moved on with life.” He frees his hand from my grip and shifts the computer back onto his lap. I still don’t see the connection between this game and Rose Blossom. Like he just read my mind, Jughead shoots me a confident grin. “Turns out one of my team members….he now works as a nurse for the Sisters. I reached out to him to see if he knew of anything, and he gave me the 411 on the woman. So…..” He sits up straight, turning the laptop around to face me. I’m shocked to find a page with a confirmation for a trip to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. Jughead finishes with, “he was able to book me an appointment to go see her this afternoon.”

I leap up from the couch. “No way!” He nods, laughing at my utter excitement. I’m still in a daze. Jughead is going to the Sisters? To speak with THE Rose Blossom? My hands go to my hips. “WHEN were you going to inform me of this?”

He stands up with his hands out in front of him. “I was actually gonna go over to your trailer to share the news, since I still thought you weren’t up to snuff. But….now that you’re here, and you know….You down to tag along?”

I squeal in glee. “Are you kidding me? YES! How far is it from the trailer park?”

Jughead tightens his jaw, making his chin double. “Well, if we leave now, it will take less than an hour. It’s not exactly in town, although everyone thinks it does. It makes no sense.”

“Then what the heaven are we waiting for? LET’S GO!” I grab Jughead by the hand and make a run for the door. He laughs the whole way out. We race down the steps, heading towards the driveway. A few feet away, Mister Jones is returning from taking Hot Dog for a walk. I give him a cheerful wave.

He wanders over to us. “Sabrina, hi. You’re starting to feel better already?”

I go to answer his question, but Jughead cuts me off. “Sure is, Dad. Hey, can we borrow the truck for a few hours?”

The older Jones’s face furrows. “What do you need the truck for, boy?” Uh oh. Is this going to cause an issue? If Mister Jones finds out what we’re up to, he’ll tell Ali, and then….

“We wanted to go to the library. To study.” I jump in to diffuse the situation. Mister Jones turns to me, the confused face softening. I go on, “I’m really behind on schoolwork, you know….with me being sick and all. And since midterms are coming out, I don’t want to fall any further behind, and---”

Mister Jones lifts his hand and chuckles. “It’s okay, kid. You don’t need to explain yourself.” I exhale the breath I didn’t know I held in. Well, that’s a relief. He tells me and Jughead, “I get it. School’s rough. Especially with all these “advanced” classes, or whatever your generation calls them.”

“AP’s, Dad.” Jughead teases. 

Mister Jones points a finger at his son, still speaking directly to me. “That’s why he and Jellybean are gonna be the first two members of the Jones Family to go to college. At least that’s the direction his mother and I want him to go down.” He pauses his speech to pull a pair of car keys out of his coat. He hands them over to Jughead and claps his son on the back. “Don’t be gone too long, boy. Promise you two will come home before sundown.”

“I promise.” Jughead shrugs off his father’s touch. Mister Jones gives me one last grin before he leads Hot Dog back into the trailer. My shoulders come down from my ears. I smile in relief. That turned out to be easier than we originally thought.

Jughead pats my back. “Dad’s right. We should shake a leg before we get more people asking about our trip.” I follow Jughead to the family’s truck and climb in. He hands me his phone so I can cue up the directions to the Sisters. The GPS app claims the trip will take about 52 minutes, with some blockage on the highway. I breathe in and out, letting myself settle into it all. I place the phone onto the dash just as Jughead pulls out the trailer park. He mutters in a sing-songy voice, “Over the river and through the woods, to Nana Rose Blossom we go….”

We go through town in order to exit onto the highway. We decide to grab a bite to eat the closer we get to our final destination. Jughead turns on the radio and flips through the channels during a red light. He makes a joke about Archie’s music, telling me about how one summer, Archie tried to sell a few of his songs to a radio station in town. Not one song got playtime, but he won himself a gig at the Whyte Wyrm for the night. I laugh listening to his story, yet I’m still on the idea of the Serpents’ culture. What horrid things have they done to earn such a bad reputation? I knew Ali grew up with them, as did Jughead’s parents, but they didn’t seem all that scary. I remember what V said the night of Moose’s attack. She said something about the Serpents selling those drugs, Jingle Jangle. Should I bring it up to Jughead? Would he know about---

My brain goes quiet when the roar of a car intensifies. I look up to find a rather expensive sports car zoom by in front of us. I hear Jughead scoff, “What an asshole. Who drives that fast around here?” I don’t say anything, mostly because I’m caught back up in thought. I’ve seen that car before. I recognize the bright red color of it. I turn my head towards the direction it came from. Are we near Pembrooke? I don’t get a chance to ask, because the light goes green, and we’re on the move again.

We make it onto the highway, passing by a sign saying _YOU ARE NOW LEAVING RIVERDALE, THE TOWN WITH PEP!_ “Archie and I made a pact about that sign back there.” Jughead goes into a new tale. Intrigued, I shift to face him and listen. He tells me, “We made an agreement that when we graduate and leave town, we’re gonna throw our initials on the backside. I already know what I want to put.” He begins to exaggerate with elaborate hand gestures. “JJ W-U-Z HERE. Put a crown next to it, or over the JJ part, I’ll figure it out eventually.” The rest of the way up, we share stories about our childhood. He tells me about a time he almost got beat up by Reggie for calling him a “necrophiliac”. I tell him about when I pranked my principal back home, Mr. Hawthorne, by using a spell to lure spiders. He hated spiders, and I felt it was most appropriate when he wouldn’t let Roz organize the newest version of her book club. I remember it was one of the last good moments at home before my birthday. I remember Ambrose helping me with the spell, he always loved a good prank.

I wonder if Aunties or Ambrose know of what I experienced this past week. Has Ali reached out to them? Wouldn’t they have sensed if I didn’t feel well? I don’t think Ali and I have heard from anyone back home since Thanksgiving. It makes me a bit nervous. The trial has to happen soon, the Church can’t draw this out forever. I want to move on with life. I want it done and over with….but I don’t know if I’m ready to leave my life in Riverdale behind. We pass by highway signs detailing the closest towns and the amount of miles they are away from our current place. Greendale is on that board. I fall silent at the sight of my hometown’s name. I’m so close….and yet so far away. Would it be an awful idea if I convince Jughead to take a detour into town? Would I get in trouble for visiting Roz, Susie, and Harvey? For stopping by the Mortuary just to say hi? 

No….it’s not worth it. I miss them all, but if they really missed me in return, they would have reached out. They would have visited me. I think I can hold off on seeing their faces for just a little while longer.

We make it to our destination just short of the new hour. We have some time to spare before our appointment with Rose Blossom, so Jughead and I grab a quick pastry and coffee at a nearby cafe. It’s so strange how close to Greendale the Sisters of Quiet Mercy resides. I can’t believe I never heard about this place. Well, it’s a place of what mortals call “holy worship”, so it’s reasonable Aunties wouldn’t want to go near that place with a ten-foot pole. I’m actually quite nervouse about going in. Will I burn to a crisp or go through another seizure if I step one foot inside? That’s not possible, I’m half-human. I’m sure I’ll be fine….won’t I?

I cling to my coffee cup as we wait in the lobby of this building. It looks identical to where the Church of Night holds their weekly gatherings. Granted, it’s a church built to worship the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord only. Here, the crosses are upright, women wear all black and white, and those elderly spending the rest of their days here make quiet prayers to the Other Lord. I try to think of good questions for this woman. Did she ever catch a glimpse of the Reaper? How did she survive the fire at Thornhill? Would she remember anything at all?

“Relax, Teenage Witch.” Jughead whispers to me, gesturing down to my knee. I didn’t realize it was bouncing so badly. He teases, “I don’t think these nuns and nurses will pick up on the fact that you’re a witch. We’re here to interview Rose Blossom, not to burn you at the stake.” My nose flares at the joke. I’m surprised that with his obsession with demonology and all things supernatural, Jughead doesn’t know the truth about the Salem Witch Trials.

“You realize no witches were actually burned, right?” I throw out to him in a low voice. He raises his brow at me. I roll my eyes and set my coffee down on the little side table between us. “The people they accused of witchcraft were either hung or thrown into jail. And it wasn’t actual witchcraft that infected and killed those girls. The witches who lived in Salem were long gone before the trials even took off. It was a fungus in the crops that made them all sick. On top of the persecutions due to social prejudices of the time period….” That makes Jughead laugh. I’m amazed. Have I outsmarted the king of conspiracy theories? I grab my cup again and defend my stance. “What? We have our history lessons, just like you. Ours just happen to go more into detail on what mortals see as a subcategory for a horror film.”

“I’m not judging.” he says, “More than anything, I’m impressed. You’ve taught me more than what I’ve read in all those books from the library. And that’s years of reading the entire section dedicated to it.” He takes a long sip from his cup, and I do the same. I glance around the open room. Nurses go by with the elderly, some don’t even look religious at all. I wonder which one grew up with Jughead. I wonder if his friends back then knew of his obsession with the supernatural….

My back straightens. Dangerous thoughts seep into my brain. If Salem doesn’t calm down anytime soon, will he go after Jughead? He always labeled Jughead as a bad influence. He didn’t like those books we found. The more that I stew on this, I realize that….what if I can’t stop Salem on his own? Will I have to resort to….

“You okay there?” he waves a hand in front of my face. I set down my coffee and face him.

“In those books you were reading, the demonology ones, did they…..did they actually explain how you could….” I keep fumbling on my words. How can I make my point across? Especially in a place like the Sisters? He doesn’t get my question, so I tell him, “I think I have some demonology books at home that I can send to you. If I wind up going back to Greendale. Just in case we need them.”

“Cool.” he takes my words light-heartedly. Then, the smile fades. He leans in closer. “Why would I….Sabrina, what’s going on?” I’m about to explain my point, but I’m interrupted.

“Forsythe Pendleton Jones. The Third!” Jughead and I freeze with our mouths hanging. We both twist our heads towards the incoming voice. A young male nurse with long, black hair and light eyes comes over to us. He’s staring directly at Jughead. Is this his friend? The male nurse smirks. “I knew I smelled something rotten.” Jughead bolts up and meets this person halfway. They join in a tight embrace, both giggling like a bunch of hyenas. It’s heartwarming to see Jughead so happy, not so much like a loner. He doesn’t act this way around Archie, not even Kevin or Moose. He’s at peace. 

The nurse takes a hold of Jughead’s face. “My god. When did you sprout up? You were like a Cabbage Patch Kid the last time I laid eyes on you, Jones! How’ve you been? How’s your sister doing?”

“Ask your brother, they’re in the same class.” he scoffs. The nurse sees me, completely curious. Jughead wraps an arm around his shoulders and leads him over to me. “Sabrina, I’d like to introduce you to Joaquin DeSantos, Hellcaste of the Southside Serpent Double-G party.” The nurse, Joaquin, extends his hand out to me.

“Sabrina, huh? Pleasure to meet you.” I grin at the generosity. I take his hand, feeling my arm bounce as he shakes it. “So, you a member of the Serpents?”

I shake my head. “I’m helping Jughead with an article for school. Just out of the kindness of my own heart.” 

Joaquin tilts his head at Jughead. “Wait, you’re running the Blue and Gold now? Good for you, brother!” He claps Jughead on the back, making him wince. Their interaction catches the attention of some of the nurses passing by. They glare at him in an unapproving fashion. Joaquin shoots me a mischievous look. “Sorry, these nuns still aren’t used to an ex-gang member working in a place of worship.” He steps in closer to me so he can mutter, “Still haven’t broken the news yet about being a _gay_ ex-gang member. But you didn’t hear that from me.” He winks, and I giggle. I think I can keep this secret.

“Hey, uh. Not to break up the happy reunion here, but.…” Jughead speaks up, “Is Rose Blossom ready to see us?” 

“Right.” Joaquin brings his hands together. “Got her up about a half hour ago to take her medicine. She’s just finishing up breakfast. I should warn you, for the past couple of months I’ve looked after her, she’s not all together there. She’s kind of crass, but she hasn’t hit Charles Foster Kane level yet, so….you’re welcome.” He ends his warning with a sarcastic smirk. I have to say, I rather enjoy the company of Jughead’s childhood friend.

I take one last sip of my coffee cup, waiting for one of the boys to instigate the next move. “I’m ready when you two are.” 

Joaquin begins to walk backwards, motioning for us to follow him. “Alrighty. This way to Rose Blossom.”

XXXXXXXX

**ALICE**

We decide to leave the car a few houses down from the abandoned Conway House. Not many people live on Fox Lane anymore, so Hiram and I can move along the street easily without causing a ruckus. We hurry down the street hand in hand, keeping our sights on the house the whole way over. I would have thought I’d feel the same dread and panic from when I stepped foot here just weeks ago. But I’m more confident in my cause. I’m ready to face what is about to come. 

We arrive at the steps leading up to the house. I take a moment to catch my breath, and to also allow Hiram to steady his grip on the tool bag. I stare at the house, it’s still the same as it was when I first came back to it. I hear him ask, “You ready?” I breathe in slowly, feeling my shoulders lift up into the air, then I let it all out. I squeeze his hand and look him in the eye. “Let’s do this.” I lead him up the steps, take him straight to the front door, which I push open with force, and I drag him through to the other side. 

The spooks and thrills of the house don’t bother me anymore. Really, the only thing that sticks out this time is the rancid smell of rotting mold everywhere. It’s worse now compared to the first time I stepped through that door. It’s so rotten that I resort to covering my mouth and nose, coughing into my hand. Hiram does the same. “Heaven, did it smell this awful before?” he comments with a brutal cough. I shrug my shoulders at him and begin to examine the scene. _Okay, Howard….what did you leave behind here?_ Images in my head flash to what I saw the night of the pep rally. The screams coming out of Jim and Mary Ellen pierce every inch of my eardrum. My eyes go over to the staircase, to the entryway into the living room.

I point a finger towards the area. “It started in here. The wife got shot right in front of the living room when Hal came in.” Hiram lets go of my hand to move over to the area. He sets down the bag, running his fingers along the floorboards.

“We’ll need to pinpoint out the specific spots on these floors to see if Howard was retracing the Reaper’s steps.” he tells me. He curls his fingers around a particular wooden plank sticking out. Then, he makes an attempt to yank it out. I go to bark at him to be careful, but the words never come out of my mouth. He tries to pull out the plank again, but he doesn’t get very far. 

“Do you want some help?” I manage to say after watching him struggle. He looks up at me, at first in frustration, then with a strategy in mind.

He shakes off the notion with some embarrassment. “Nevermind that. I can take care of looking around here. Where else in the house did the Rea…..” he pauses for a moment before he says, “I should just say Hal now, shouldn’t I?” I stand there in the middle of the living room, the breeze finding its way to chill me under this felt dress. Even after a week, it’s still uncomfortable to face the reality that Hal caused the death of the Conways. But it’s a truth I need to confront, one way or another. I send Hiram a confirming nod. “Okay then,” he continues, “Where did Hal strike next?”

My gaze drifts around the room, trying to put the puzzle pieces together. A nonexistent scream comes from my left. I bring my head to look over to the next murder scene. “The kitchen.” I mutter, marching over to the new doorway. I call out to Hiram, “Jim Conway died next. In here.” I don’t think I’ve explored the house much the first few times around, only just the living room and quick walkthroughs of the second floor. So, seeing this part of the house will be an adventure. Or a waste of time. Let’s see….

I pause at the doorway, shocked at what I see. The Conways’ kitchen is…..clean. Not a lick of dirt or mold occupies this space. The refrigerator stands out, it’s so shiny. A window allows light to pour in and brighten up the place, as does the door leading out to the backyard. The kitchen table looks wiped down…. Somebody’s been in here recently. I can sense a vibe in this kitchen. Did I not pay attention to this room when Hiram and I conjured the spirits weeks ago? No….no, I only went and cleansed of the spirits upstairs. I never stepped foot into the kitchen. I stare down at the floor, right where Jim Conway bled out to death. There’s no sign of blood anywhere. Granted, it’s been cleaned up following the crime, but wouldn’t there be a trace of it somewhere? Wouldn’t Howard have picked up on that too?

I hustle over to the fridge, gripping onto the little metal handle and yanking it open. No signs of documents in here. I check the pantry cabinets, one by one, then getting frustrated at the tediousness of it all. I use a spell to force them all open. Still nothing. I make my way around every nook and cranny of this space. Under the table and chairs, in between the countertops and floorboards, under the sink. Nothing. Nada. Zip.

“Anything?” Hiram calls for me back out in the living room. I huff, then I march out of the kitchen. I shake my head in an absolute fury. He stands back up and places his hands on his hips. “This doesn’t make sense.” he sighs, “Unless Hal destroyed it all, Howard should have left something! But where we looked so far is all empty….” I see a light go into his eyes, an idea. He raises a hand to snap his fingers. “Unless we’re not utilizing the right resources! We conjured spirits to give us information before…” he cues me onto his plan. Okay, this could work, and I’m trusting him.

“We can see if they can guide us to what we’re looking for!” I fill in the last part, feeling my excitement grow again. I join Hiram at his side and gesture down to the bag. “You still got that heavy-ass Grimoire on you? No offense.”

“None taken.” He bends down to dig the book out of the bag. He plops the book straight into my hands. “Go to the chapt---”

I wave him off, already making headway to flip through this book. “I got it.” I scan page by page until I find the section we need. It’s another Seance ritual, but hey, if it worked the first time around, we might have just as much luck the second time. Hiram reaches for a candle in the bag and uses a nonverbal spell to light it. He leans in close to me so we can both read the spell in the text.

“ _Spirits below and above, spirits in between, caught in the fabric betwixt worlds, we ask that the veil be lifted and that you send forth the spirits of this house…_.” We sound so in sync, it kind of freaks me out a bit, but it’s kind of soothing. I usually don’t tend to perform ritualistic spells with other witches, not even Sabrina. I perform a lot of my spells and rituals on my own. So, having Hiram say the words with me is a step towards breaking out of my introverted shell.

When we finish chanting the spell, I shut my eyes and wait for the same helpful spirits to make their presence known. I hear Hiram grab for something else in the bag. He takes the book out of my hands, and he sets down….an 8-ball? A Christmas ornament? What the hell did he just hand me? I open my eyes to find an egg-shaped figure in my palms. I roll my eyes at him, waiting impatiently for an explanation.

He says, “That will help us go in the right direction. The spirits can use that to send us towards what we want.”

I glance down at this thing, then I glare back up at him. I take it into one hand, and I start to give him some sass. “You’re going to have the spirits contact us? Through an EGG? What do I look like, Hiram? Veruca Salt?”

A gust of wind sweeps through the house. That shuts me up real fast. Hiram ushers me closer to him. “Set it down. Let them speak.” I don’t move right away, just because I’m still staring at this Willy Wonka contraption. Hiram makes his gestures grandiose the second time around towards the egg. I give him the look of _Okay, I got it_ , then I gently place the egg down at my feet. My knee jerks, causing the heel of my boot to pound on the floor. I’m going into this plan completely blind. I go through the outcomes in my head - what if we don’t get an answer? What if we do and it’s either disintegrated or hexed? What if….

I feel his hand slide into mine. A jolt of electricity runs through my arm. “Just be patient.” he whispers, “Spirits are here. I can sense them. We just need to instigate the conversation.” I force a wad of saliva down my throat. I make my heel stand still. I release my fingernails from their place on my palms, I didn’t realize that I made a fist. A delayed sting lasts for a few seconds before fading away. My fingers flex out. My heartbeat regulates. I shut my eyes and exhale. Okay, I’m ready.

“Spirits,” I begin to speak, “a terrible crime occurred within these walls, and someone tried and failed to solve it. We think something is hidden that can explain the events.” My throat goes dry, my hands get clammy and shake. My eyes open back up to glare down at the egg. I really need to say something, otherwise I’m going to lose whatever spirits we conjured. I extend my foot out to tap the egg. “We’ve laid out this…..um, egg-thing here on the floor, so….so you could….”

“We ask for you to guide us towards the direction of what we seek with this….egg.” Hiram fills in the gaps, giving me a sympathetic wink. I’m a bit relieved that he calls it an egg too, so I wind up loosening up and smiling in return. My eyes go back down to the egg, I study the golden exterior, the multitude of colors woven in between. It glimmers in what little light comes into the living room. A bird chirps outside the house. A particle of floating dust catches my attention, causing me to look upward. I quietly huff, in hope that I don’t disturb the spirits from whatever they need to do. I find my sights wandering back over to the kitchen. Did whoever release Hal return to the house and clean it up? Did they realize his true nature, the same way I did? Is this all in attempt to lure Hal back in and---

A ripple of energy hits me. The egg smacks into the toes of my boots. I have to suppress a yelp as I jump back, dragging Hiram with me. The egg continues to roll in my direction. Wait….why would it…. Hiram takes my arm and pulls me off to the side. I don’t get what’s happening until I see the egg roll out of the living room, making a curved turn towards the doorway. Then, it makes a sharp turn facing the staircase. It rolls at a fast pace and slams into the bottom of the staircase, stopping it. The thud echoes throughout the empty house. We wait a couple of seconds for a sign. The egg rolls into the staircase again, this time not producing as loud of a thump. It goes back again, and again, and again.

“What does that mean?” I breathe out, looking to Hiram for clarity. He tilts his head at the object.

“Under the staircase?” he tries to make sense of the egg hitting the staircase. I concentrate on the lower step, looking for a presence. Nothing. Now I’m getting frustrated again. Why would the egg be going to the staircase if it---

Wait. It’s not wanting us to look at the staircase. It wants us to…. I grip Hiram’s hand tighter. My eyes widen at him. It freaks him out a bit, so I let him in on my epiphany, “Upstairs.” It takes a few seconds to grasp the concept. Eventually, he grins at me once he catches on. Not wanting to waste anymore time, we run over to the staircase. He grabs for the egg as we fly up the staircase. We get about halfway up the second set when Hiram stops us. “Hang on.” he tells me, handing me the egg. “Place this on the top step. The spirits can direct us to where Howard hid everything.” I nod my head and follow his instructions. I move back down the steps and wait for our friends on the other side to shuffle the egg again. It stays still, not even a gust of breeze can move it. I’m worried that our movements have scared the spirits off. No, they’re not gone. I can still sense them, but why are they not doing anything?

“Come on, spirits.” I quietly chant. “Please. We need you.”

The egg gets rolling again, I perk up. It rolls down the hallway, then it stops in front of an open room. It backs up a bit, my brows raise at the unusual movement. The egg picks up speed as it curves and disappears into the….. Hang on. That’s the children’s bedroom. That’s the last room I visited when I smudged the upstairs.

“What room is that?” Hiram asks me. I don’t give him direct eye contact. I stay staring in the path of the egg.

“Kids room. Hal killed them….” I stop speaking. It hits me that the kids weren’t even downstairs when their parents died. They were hiding, but they must have heard everything. That’s why they screamed. And Hal wouldn’t have wanted any of them to survive and tell the tale. So, “He killed the kids last.”

I run all the way up the rest of the stairs. “Alice, wait!” Hiram follows behind me into the kids’ bedroom. I glance around at this graveyard of a room. No wonder Howard used it to hide his research. No one would want to parooze around a children’s bedroom where murders took place. It’s the perfect place to hide a secret. But where could his stuff have gone in this room? And where did the egg go?

Hiram leaves my side to check the area by the beds. I go to the closest space. Without touching a knob, I use magic to force the folding doors open, half preparing for any spooks that Hal may have left. Lucky for me, there’s no thrills, but unfortunately, no egg. A thumping noise emerges from the other side of the room. Hiram and I turn our heads towards the source of the noise. My mouth drops at what I see. The egg is slamming into the kids’ toy box.

The corners of my mouth lift. I stare in wonder at this box. I can’t believe I overlooked this damn thing before. And it would make sense. Who would have the balls to dig through a box of outdated, creepy childrens’ toys? Well, Howard did. And the spirits have guided us to our missing puzzle piece.

“Here! Help me with this!” I go to the toy box and grab the egg, placing it back under Hiram’s care. I grab for one side of the box, using my strength to push it out. Okay, this is heavier than what I thought. After watching me struggle for a bit, Hiram takes the other side and mimics my motions. Even with both of us going at it, the box remains in its place. I grunt in frustration. Right, I forgot it was practically bolted or glued to the floor.

But I have witchcraft. And so does Hiram. I stand back up right and take a few steps backwards. Hiram looks up at me, “What are you doing?”

“Just trust me, will you?” I reply without wanting to flip my lid at him. I lift my hands, redirecting my energy at the box. I shut my eyes and let my magic do the work.

There’s an unsettling noise that comes from the wood of the box inching across the floorboards. The image in my head is difficult to grasp the mass volume of, but I’m making some progress. I reel my hands slowly towards my chest, egging the box to come my way. It’s like I’m playing tug of war, and the other side is winning. I can barely get this thing moving. Has my magic really weakened over my time here in Riverdale?

The heaviness of the box decreases, I can feel the weight lifting off of my magic. The box glides towards me at a faster pace. I open my eyes, how is this…. I finally pick up on Hiram standing next to me, summoning the box with just as much force. The box comes to a halt just feet away from where I’m standing. Hiram lowers his hands and his smile radiates. My eyes mist up. A soft grin forms on my face. “Thanks.” I mutter, to which he nods in return.

I eye a small lock on the lid of the box. With just a flick of my hand, I send a wave of magic to force the lock open. It snaps alive, then it falls to the floor with a clank. At the same time, Hiram and I meander over to the box, hesitant to open its contents. I place one hand on one corner of the lid, Hiram goes for the other side. We look at one another, cueing a silent countdown. _3….2….1…._ We yank the lid up, a sea of dust and mildewy air greet us. I have to cover my mouth to not allow any of it in my system. Hiram coughs before he stares down. He stops coughing all together. What is he seeing in this thing? My curiosity hits a peak, I glance down….

My smile grows. A newfound feeling of happiness overtakes me. Sitting on top of a pile of untouched and molding toys is a stack of papers. Manila folders dated from the 90s, ones that no one has dared to find in 25 years. Everything we need to finish what the former Sheriff Howard started.

“Howard, you son of a bitch.” Hiram chuckles in glee. 

I lower down to get a better look at all of this. “It’s all here. He left everything here.” I’m over the moon. I can’t describe the excitement I’m feeling in this moment. I reach for one manila folder stuffed with papers and cradle it like I’m holding a baby. “We should bring all of this down to the kitchen. There’s a big enough table to stack this research on.” I start moving away from Hiram and the box, meandering closer to the door. “But we should start glancing this stuff over. That way we can take notes and bring summary notes to FP and Gladys. And JB too!”

“Then why should we wait to tell the Joneses when we can just bring it to them?” I stop in my path, and I twist on my heels to face him. My jaw goes to the floor. Did Hiram just suggest that we….that we steal this paperwork?

Hiram stands up with two giant folders of papers in each arm. He notices my facial expression and rolls his eyes at me. “Look, borrowing the Book of the Beast was one thing. This,” he gestures down to Howard’s research, “on the other hand, I don’t think anyone would have a clue where this came from. And no one would bother to look for it either. So….” he lets out a huff and smirks. “I think we’re safe to hold onto these without people asking questions.”

I take baby steps back over to him, my jaw rejoining the rest of my mouth. I can hear the heels of my boots clank on the floorboards. He looks so calm, yet so confident in his actions. Maybe I am starting to wear off on him. I grin up at him with my lips partially together. “My, aren’t you turning into a rebel with a cause?”

He loses the smirk and forms a sheepish smile. His cheeks flush with pink. “What? I’m beginning to like this…..rebelling thing. It’s fun.” He sounds so childlike, I can’t help but giggle. He steps in closer to me, his face inches away from mine. His voice lowers, “I’m glad you roped me into this hunt, Alice. I needed to return to my teenage roots. I needed to remind myself of who I was. What I want in life.”

There’s a story waiting to be read in his eyes. It’s one that no one else knows, not even Veronica or Hermione. It’s one I have to open and not judge by its cover. I bring my feet together, bringing me just an inch away from him. My eyes go to the folders in his arms. His breath greets my face. 

“And….what do you want in life, Mister Lodge?” I look back up at him, and my mouth closes. He’s studying me. He’s waiting for me to make my next move, to say the next thing. I half wonder what could occur if he didn’t have the folders in his hands. If he would close the gap between us or run far away from me. I’m scared to admit that I prefer the first option. What is it about him that’s leaving me so flustered lately? Am I now realizing that Hiram was never the problem in high school? That he was dealing with as many secrets as I was? That….that maybe when he invited me to that fated Halloween party, it was more than just for party favors?

I start to wonder what if it would be a bad thing if….if we….

He shrugs his arms upwards to readjust his hold on the folders. “I think, for right now,” he tells me with a playful expression on his face, “I want to get everything Howard touched downstairs before my arms go numb.” My neutral face breaks as I burst into laughter.

“C’mon, you big baby.” I gesture towards the door with my head, and I lead us out of the children’s bedroom. I think we can easily get what we found downstairs in two or three trips. We’ll have to bring the car closer to the house, but we could take a good amount of this paperwork and shove it into Hiram’s toolbag. I can worry about the logistics of this once we get to the kitchen. Right now, I’m just excited that we placed another piece into our half-completed puzzle. 

I almost tumble down the last step from not paying attention. I brace myself against the wall as some contents of my folder fly out. I bless out loud. Hiram sets one stack of papers down on the staircase and helps me off the wall. My head gets dizzy all of the sudden. My senses pick up on something…. Is there someone in the house with us? Have the spirits not left? Well, whatever it is, I need to get my act together. I wave Hiram away, “I’m fine. Just got a little clumsy, that’s all.”

He sits me down on the staircase. “I’ll grab the car. You want me to find you some water?”

“No. I’m good. I’ll make sure no creeps come in here and steal all this.” I keep my tone optimistic to hide my sudden, over compelling sense of….offness. Hiram lets go of my shoulder, muttering an Okay, then he picks up his tool bag from the floor and walks out of the house, leaving the door wide open.

The breeze outside has picked up. It makes the floorboards sing, it makes some of the folders and spare papers dance, including what fell out of my stack. I better get what I dropped picked up before it blows away. It’s not that much so I’m able to catch my portion of Howard’s paperwork before I lose it to the wind. I do my best to assemble the loose articles back into the folder. Medical paperwork filled out by coroners when the bodies were taken in back in ‘67. Bank statements belonging to the Conways. A photo of Jim and Mary Ellen, along with their kids…..

There’s three kids in that photo. I thought there were only two, one boy, one girl. I only saw two in my visions. I set the folder down next to me and bring this photo closer to my face. This kid definitely has the Conway look to him - blue eyes like Jim, dark blonde hair and a nose like Mary Ellen. And yet, at the same time, he doesn’t share features with the two kids I saw. A cousin maybe? Family friend? The kids’…..brother? 

I flip the photo to the back side, finding some words written in neat cursive. The caption said this was taken on Pickens’ Day that January. The names are there too. Jim, Mary Ellen, Tommy, Sue…….Joseph.

Joseph. I bring my hands down to my lap, still clutching onto the photo. I try to process it all. There was a third kid. His name was Joseph. He wasn’t there that night. I didn’t see him through Hal. Was this the element of Howard’s insanity? Did Hal forget Joseph in his massacre? Is Joseph even a Conway at all? But he looks like the parents. He’s in that photo with the Conways. Then….then what happened to Joseph? Where did he go? Is he…..is he still alive?

There’s a bang in the kitchen. I bolt up from my place. Something’s…..somebody’s in here. I turn to the front door. It’s still open from when Hiram walked out. My heartbeat goes twice its speed. I don’t have any of Hiram’s tools on me, so I have to resort to my magic if I need to defend myself. I move slowly towards the kitchen, waiting for whatever’s in that room to show itself. “Hiram?” I call out, curling my fingers into fists. “The front door’s still open. Did someone see you?” I’m greeted with silence. No….heavy breathing. I try to read this new vibe. Does it have an aura? It does, but it doesn’t belong to Hiram. Oh shit.

“Hello?” The breathing intensifies. My pace picks up. Who is in this house with me? “HELLO?” The breathing stops. The house goes dead silent. I storm into the kitchen and freeze.

A figure wearing all black hovers by the refrigerator, with their back facing me. The intruder shakes in their place, the heavy breathing starting up again. Did Hal send another doppelganger? The figure turns around slowly, worried that I may come into the kitchen and attack them. I won’t, but I would certainly like to know who they are and why they’re in here. Besides….they don’t look like someone who can put up a fight. The intruder doesn’t fully face me, but what I do catch a glimpse of is a corner of a mouth. The tip of a nose. A blue eye. I go to say something, to start firing questions, but the intruder makes a run for the backdoor. “HEY!” I scream, and I follow the intruder out of the Conway House. 

I shove the door wide open and glance around the backyard. From the dividing line between the neighborhood and Fox Forest, the figure in black fights their way through the trees. It’s not so crowded, so I can see the figure getting farther and farther away. “STOP!” I yell and run down the back porch steps. I’m so caught up in chasing after this intruder that I practically bodyslam straight into Hiram.

“Woah!” he catches me to keep me from falling down. I struggle to catch my breath. My eyes focus on the woods. “Are you okay? I heard yelling from the entryway. What happened?” The figure is slowing down their pace, but they’re getting away. 

I point my finger towards that direction. “There was…..someone was in that house.”

Hiram’s eyes flare up. “Did he hurt you?”

“No.” I gulp down a wad of saliva. “But…..” I can’t finish my thought, I’m getting dizzy again. I wait for my head to clear before I free myself from Hiram’s grip. The intruder hasn’t made much progress in their escape, so I can still grab them. I sprint off to the woods. Hiram calls out for me, but I don’t respond. I need to stop this person. I need to know why they were in that house.

I crush tree branches. I leave footprints in the snow. I don’t feel like I’m running, it’s like I’m flying. I’m feeling a burn in my calves from running so fast, but I can’t stop now. To my advantage, the escaping intruder is slowing down their speed. “STOP! PLEASE!” I guess I’m not loud enough, because the figure isn’t taking me seriously. They just keep running.

I let my magic fly out of my fingertips. I thrust my hands out. The intruder’s feet go up in the air. They fall into the snow face first. A cry of pain pierces the silence in these woods. I stop at the sound of the cries. I hate having to reproduce my magic in such a harsh way. I would never want to intentionally harm another person with it. But should I assume this person is….. These cries don’t sound demonic. It could be a trick to throw Hiram and I off, but I can sense an aura. I really think this could be a human we’re dealing with, and not a creation belonging to Hal.

Hiram catches up to me and stops just a footstep ahead of me. I hold my arm out in front of him to keep him from going further. I can’t guarantee what will happen in the next few seconds, I have to act smart here. I bring my arm down back to my side. Okay, here goes nothing. I wave for Hiram to follow me as I cautiously hurry over to our intruder. The sobs grow louder the closer we get. And the more I listen to this person wailing in pain, the more I realize….this person is not some youngling.

I watch Hiram step out ahead and grab a hold of this person. He drags the body over to a nearby tree. I’m tempted to nag him and tell him to be careful, but he rests the person against the tree gently. I sigh in relief. The cries persist….this time around, they’re accompanied by a voice.

“No….please….don’t….”

“Alright, Keller.” Hiram ignores the intruder’s pleading. “Cut the crap. We know it’s you.” I remain silent, mostly because I’m still listening to the stranger. I get Hiram’s concern, Tom’s been on our tail for unknown reasons, and if he ever found out about us, we’d be screwed. But this person….the woeful voice…. Tom Keller would never put himself in that vulnerable of a position.

“Wait.” I keep Hiram at bay for just a second. The stranger’s head is bent to the ground, the hood preventing me from getting a good look at their face. My fingers crinkle….I still have the photograph of the Conways in my hand. It’s all crumbled now, but the photo still has some quality to it. The unknown boy still stands out.

This stranger had to have gone in the house for a reason.

I crouch down and peel back the hood on…..a man. He’s aged, probably in his mid to late 50s, but an innocent man. No sign of demonic activity. The man looks up at me. His dark blonde hair glimmers in the snow. His blue eyes have tears in them. I notice a slight swelling in his ankle, now turning purple. The man sniffles. “Ar….” he stutters on his words, “Are….are you going to hurt me?” He sounds so broken, and I regret making him a victim of my magic.

“No.” I tell him. “I…..” I can’t say much further, I’m so entranced by this man’s face. Why does it…. I glare down at the photo in my hand. I find myself going back and forth between the man in front of me and the boy in the picture.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” the man sobs. “I only wanted to…..I just wanted….”

“Wanted what?” Hiram snaps. I’m worried that he may be scaring off this man, but it doesn’t stop this stranger from explaining his view of things.

“Why were you in my house?”

My hand goes stiff, my fingers pinching the photo tightly. The words echo in my head. _Why were you in my house?_ My mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air out of water. My head glances over my shoulder back at Hiram. He shares an equal look of bewilderment. All of the Conways were dead according to the news. Not one person is left on Fox Lane to provide their insight. And now I’m only hearing news about this boy….Joseph….

I turn back to the man. “Who are you? What’s your name?” The man coughs and wipes snot away with the sleeve of his jacket. He looks me in the eye.

“Joseph. I’m…..I’m Joseph Conway.”


	3. Oneirataxia

**ALICE**

I’m getting weighed down carrying this man through Fox Forest. Even with Hiram taking the other side, it’s still heavy and unpleasant. He’s muttering nonsense, how we need to get to his hideout, how no one has stepped foot into his house for years until now. The words are floating in my head, but I’m not processing them. More than anything, I’m still in quite a state of shock from who I just met.

The Conways had a third child. Joseph was the only survivor of his family’s massacre. He’s still in Riverdale, but doing what? Scaring people away from the House of 1000 Corpses? The questions overtake my current thought process as we limp our way further into the woods. I never realized how deep Fox Forest was until now. Snow falls off the branches, splatting onto the ground below. Squirrels chatter, the wind screams. I hope this hideout that Joseph keeps mentioning is closeby. I’m not in the mood to be led into a witch hunter’s trap and forced to make a grand escape. Nor do I really want to get lured into being bait for Hal. If Joseph has been working for Hal….

His ankle got rolled from when I flexed my magic onto him. I can’t tell how much damage I inflicted by solely staring at his snow boots, but I should still examine it anyway. The wind has picked up, and I’m regretting not putting on warmer clothes or an outer-layer. 

Joseph raises a finger to a patch of snow ahead of us. “The hatch is just there. I was worried I’d lose my way with all this snow.” I have a vague idea of where he’s leading us. I can see footprints leading away from this supposed hatch. “I should be okay to hobble over. I’ll open it up for us.” Hiram and I don’t respond, not really understanding what he means. Joseph insists, “Please. We have to hurry before he returns.”

He….hold on. Is Joseph referring to who I _think_ he just referred to? Hiram must be on the same wavelength as me, because he removes his hold of Joseph and asks, “Before who returns?” 

Joseph frees himself from my supportive grip, stumbling closer to Hiram. He places his hands on Hiram’s shoulders, making me a bit on edge. I’m ready to come at him with another spell, but Joseph clarifies his point, staring us both in the eye.

“The Riverdale Reaper, that’s who. He still lurks in these woods.” I teeter back on my heels. My lips part, my head throbs, my tattoo itches. So Hal is taking refuge in these woods during his down time. He must have before he ran into me, before I trapped him in the Conways’ home. Now I have to question how Joseph made his way to Fox Forest, and what exactly this “hatch” does to avoid Hal like the plague. 

Joseph releases from Hiram and begins to hobble towards the footprinted path. Each step is accompanied by a wince he fails to hide. He lowers down onto his knees, scraping away some snow off the top of….a steel circle door. Oh my Satan, he wasn’t kidding about this hideout. I send Hiram a look of “What the actual heaven?” with my brows raised and my eyes popping, to which he responds with a sarcastic eye roll. I watch as Joseph yanks at the handle. His age is starting to show, he doesn’t have much strength pulling this hatch door open. Part of me wants to go over and help the poor man, maybe even use some She-Ra strength and get the thing open with just a small maneuver of my arm. But I don’t, and I’m not sure how a middle-aged mortal would react to a witch pulling a hatch door open with little contact.

He gets it open on his own, he pushes it way over to the other side. He lowers down so he can climb into the open hole in the ground, twisting to grab at the handrails. He grunts, climbing down the rails, “Come. Quickly.”

I watch him disappear underground, still half in a daze. Okay, the fact that I had no clue there could be salvageable land underneath Fox Forest says something about my knowledge of this town. How would someone like Joseph Conway learn about this secret? I should go, my curiosity is begging me to fall down that rabbit hole. But what if it’s a trap? What if he means to kill us? 

I approach the hole and glance down. A staircase goes into pitch-black. A small flicker of a light comes from one side, but it’s so faint I wonder if my mind is playing tricks on me. Hiram reaches for my arm and says, “I’ll go first. See if this bunker’s legitimate.” I nod my head, still gathering my thoughts. Hiram twists and contorts his body to get a good hold of the staircase going into the unknown. He looks up at me with a hopeful smile, then he descends. I’m left with the howling wind, the noises of the wild. I’m left out in the open for Hal to grab. What if I don’t come out of these woods alive? How would the Joneses go on? How can this town be safe? What would happen to Sabrina?

There’s a tap on the railings, spooking me. I gasp and look down. A source of light appears in Hiram’s hands. “It’s good.” he whispers, gesturing for me to join him and Joseph. I have to steady myself for a second, just to ease my nerves. Once I regulate my heartbeat and my breath, I begin to climb down.

The light of the outside world shrinks the farther down I step. This hole is getting claustrophobic, I’m doing my best to not experience a panic attack. I need to breathe. I need to fight the nerve to just climb back out, leave this forest, and go back to town. Hiram is on the other side, he’s there in case I fall. _Daisies and candles, you’re almost there. One step at a time, Alice. Take it one step---_

My ankle misses a bar, I almost slip off the damn thing. I can barely grip onto the rails, I can feel myself going backwards. But I don’t - Hiram catches me by the waist, blocking my backwards motion with his chest. “Hey….I got you. I’ve got you. It’s okay.” My breathing intensifies, I squeeze my eyes shut, letting Hiram lower me down to the ground. His arms snake around my stomach, holding me there. A low-registered melody enters my subconscious. A baby version of Blue, I guess. I wind up resting my arms over his and absorb his warmth. I can feel his fingers make circles across my forearms. It’s comforting.

After a few moments, he backs away, leading me by the hand into Joseph’s secret corridors. What I lay my eyes upon astonishes me. Candles are lit throughout a circular room, I swear I think it’s a sewer pipe. A small table and bed rest on opposite ends of each other both of which are littered with papers, clothes, and scraps of canned food. My gaze wanders over to the makeshift workspace. A corkboard lays against the wall, covered in…..are these police records? Some look like the same information Howard worked with before his death, some look fairly recent. I recognize Tom Keller’s handwriting from where I stand. It’s a mix of police records, photographs, newspaper articles, all connected by string. I loop a finger around the string and tub gently. It seems like Joseph wants to catch whoever murdered his family, and he’s gotten ahold of information regarding what Hal and I did. What Hal is doing currently.

Joseph jumps onto his bed behind me. “Those weren’t easy to snag, mind you.” He coughs and struggles to get his boots off. I glance over my shoulder as he peels off the boot and corresponding sock from his injured ankle. I exhale, releasing my shoulders. It doesn’t look too injured, which is good. He rambles on about the stolen paperwork, “I don’t like stealing, I don’t like to label myself as a burglar. But they said awful things about my family. Facts that were only proven to be lies. And nobody could still see the truth, not even me. That’s why I took it. I wanted to….” He stops, wincing at the pain when he rolls his ankle around. I watch the limb go clockwise, counterclockwise, over and over. Does the man own a single ice pack to use? Or another pillow to leverage it upright? 

“Hey, you’re going to make the pain worse.” I bark at him, my voice ceasing his ticky movements. I bring a chair from the desk and plop it down in front of the bed. I sit down, hesitating to reach out and grab this man’s ankle. Could he go after me for injuring him? Would this act of kindness risk my job, my reputation, my relationship with Sabrina? No good deed goes unpunished, but I don’t believe one samaritan act would kill anyone.

“Stay still for me, okay?” I ask calmly. Joseph swallows a lump in his throat and nods. I only hope that he doesn’t jerk at what I’m about to do. I place one hand on his shin, the other at the bone of the ankle. My thumb rests in between, pressing down onto the flesh. I can feel Hiram’s eyes judging me from behind, but I can’t focus on how….weird this is. I get it, why are we helping a stranger who spooked me? But this is Joseph Conway, for hell’s sake. He may be the one chance we have at understanding why Hal killed those people and covered it up. I’d rather take the blind shot then let the man die without getting an answer.

I wedge my thumb into his flesh, making it appear like I’m massaging the area. In reality, I’m speaking the healing spell to my head and allowing the magic to radiate out of my hands. Electricity pulses in my fingertips. I feel the wounded muscle underneath the flesh mend together once more. The raw bone stops its friction, it aligns back with the rest of the leg and foot.

I release my hold on Joseph, my work completed. He glances down at his ankle and runs a hand across the healed section. “How did you…” He mutters, but immediately shuts up. Good. I really don’t need the unnecessary questions that require an immediate memory removal. He pulls back on his sock, this time not wincing at any pain. “You’re a kind lady.”

The words hit me funny. A complete stranger I just met sees me as….kind? Something builds in my throat, I cough and don’t say a word back. I glance around the room again. Since I don’t have the gall to thank Joseph for the act of gratitude, I decide to get into why we really came here. “How long have you been living underground, Joseph?”

“Long time, miss.” I watch Joseph swing his legs off the bed, he looks like a little kid. Like the same little boy in that photograph. He’s about to speak, so I motion for Hiram to pull over another chair and join me. We wait for Hiram to settle down before Joseph gets into the meat of his history. I ask why he chose the bunker, and he explains, “Noise disturbs me. I hear whispers constantly from everyone around me. Especially the whispers of that…..Reaper. I think he still wants me dead. I feared growing up that he would come back for me, that he would finish what he started with my family. I hear the whispers of my family too, asking why I didn’t save them. It hurts to hear Susie and Tommy’s voices….” He pauses for a moment, his eyes misting at the memory of his siblings. His breath picks up, his teeth grind together. His finger interlace on his lap, I notice his thumbs tapping away at his knuckles. He glances down at the floor before he can pick up from where he left off. “That’s why I’ve taken refuge in this land below. It blocks out the nasty words. The constant guilt.” He goes silent again, only making noise to clear his throat. I’m trying hard to keep a neutral face, to not show any emotion. But what Joseph just admitted hits too close to home. His reason for running matches the reason I fled. It was all that guilt tormenting me and keeping me from sleeping at night, even before I bound Hal to that house. I could hear them….Darryl, the football players, Hermione. Their voices were whispers, but they came to me as screams, always with the same message.

**You** **_killed us, not him._ ** **You** **_are to blame._ **

The next thing I know, my palms are stinging. I must have fazed out, because my nails have found a home in my raw flesh, causing them to break the skin. Before I have time to react, Hiram rests his hand over my own, turning it over so my palm is up in the air. He pries my nails from their fearful grip and weaves his fingers in between mine. My heart is heavy, my face is red. I need to get my act together. I can’t break my cover just yet.

Hiram takes over as the role of interviewer. “What happened that night, Joseph? Are you willing to explain it to us? As best as you can remember?” Joseph brings a hand to his mouth to wipe away some dribbling saliva from his chin. He drums his fist down onto his knees and hums. He stays like this for some time. Is he deliberately avoiding the question all together? Is he thinking? What is going on in this man’s mind? I’m tempted to draw the words out of his brain with a spell, tugging at them like a stubborn strand of yarn. It feels like hours just sitting there, waiting for Joseph to spit out the truth. I’m getting impatient, and rather cold, and I just want to grab our research, head back to the trailer park, and check in on Sabrina. My patience dwindles away with each second passing.

Minutes pass, and Joseph’s raspy, broken voice fills the room. “It was in November. I had trouble sleeping, only because I could hear my parents arguing. Susie and Tommy shrugged it off, but I could tell something wasn’t right. I had the bed closest to the window, so when I turned my head to get some shut eye….” he takes a second to breathe deeply, “I saw him. He wielded a big rifle, he zoomed down the street. It spooked me, I really thought it was the Boogeyman. So I sat there and prayed that it was just one of those obnoxious teenagers running around. It got real quiet in the house. Then he knocked on the door. Before I knew it…..” He stops again, the mist in his eyes turn wet. He lifts his hands and mimics a shooting. “Bang. BANG.” I jump in my seat, I squeeze Hiram’s hand. A faint whisper in his voice tells me to stay calm, that it’s going to be alright. I swear, it sounds like Hiram really is speaking to me.

Joseph’s hands bounce on his lap. “Susie and Tommy freak out. They want to run downstairs to check on Mom and Dad. But I froze. I could hear the footsteps, booming their way towards the three of us. I panicked, I wanted to go to the closet, but I knew I couldn’t get there fast enough. He was getting closer, and I was running out of options. So I hid under my bed. I stayed down there not saying a peep, holding a hand over my mouth and nose to not breathe so loud…..I couldn’t even scream when I saw Susie and Tommy get gunned down. I saw the life leave their eyes. The blood….” His voice gives out. He stares blankly over our heads, caught in the painful memory. His hands go to his mouth, he doesn’t want us to hear him sob. All that remorse, all those years of carrying that burden, it’s broken him. It’s made him ashamed for being the one to survive. 

He chokes out, “I never crawled out until the police showed up. I lost track of the time. It must have been an hour after the Reaper came and gone. The cops had to drag me out from my sanctuary to get me to the station. It was only when I got into the cop car that I cried. I never called for help. Never moved an inch to go somewhere safe. I was a coward. I let Mom and Dad, and Susie and Tommy down.” 

“Joseph, you were a child. You didn’t know better. You couldn’t stop a serial killer.” Hiram reasons with him. But I’m starting to pick up something about Joseph’s appearance. He traded the crying for determination. 

“It’s not that. It’s not because I left them to die. It’s….it’s that I….” He’s eyeing an area of the wall behind us. His hands shake when he leaps off the bed. He stumbles in our direction, making me lean back in my seat, and he lifts a finger. I don’t know if he’s pointing at me or Hiram, but I notice the finger is higher in the air. It designates a particular area of the room. I rotate my head to the research board. My thoughts swirl. What caught his eye? What does he want to admit to us?

“Get that photo, will you?” his voice wobbles. 

Hiram stands up, letting go of my hand. “What photo? Joseph, what is this all about?”

“The photo.” Joseph stands his ground. “There’s a photo of a group. Grab it.” Hiram remains in his place, not really getting Joseph’s point. I glance around the board silently, then I spot it. My eyes glow. I’ve seen that photo before…..but where? WHEN?

I rise up and race over to the board. I free the photo from its pintack, being careful not to damage it, and I bring it back to our little circle. Not really paying attention to who is in the photo, I hold it out to Joseph, “Is this it?” He rips it out of my hands. I watch his eyes dance from one side to another, absorbing every detail. Then, he nods. “Who are they?” I wait for his response, but he can’t form the words. His lips struggle to open. His teeth stay glued together. 

“The witch hunters.” My heart stops. I look over at Hiram, and we share a mutual look of concern. I turn back to Joseph just as he twists the photo to face us. My mouth hangs. Right in the center of that group is no one other than Rose Blossom. I take a second to register the faces around her, the part of town they’re celebrating their glory. No wonder the photo looks familiar. It’s the same photograph JB pointed out from her research.

“They came to speak with me after I was brought to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy.” he admits to us. I stand dumbfounded - wasn’t the Sisters of Quiet Mercy an insane asylum a few towns over? I never knew it also operated as an orphanage, or maybe I really am starting to lose my memory. I redirect my focus back to Joseph. “They had tracked the Reaper for all his killings, claiming that I was the only survivor of his murders. They probably thought I caught a glimpse of him.” He lowers the photo so we can no longer view it. He stands there not saying a word for a solid minute. Now I have to wonder - did he catch a glimpse of Hal? Maybe….but how could he have seen Hal from under that bed? Unless he looked upward….

I never get what I want to say out of my mouth, but luckily, he answers my silent question. “I mean, I did. It wasn’t much of a man, but….yeah, I saw the Reaper. At least somewhat of his face.” 

Hiram lets his jaw drop, matching my own. His teeth chatter. “You saw his face?” Joseph silently nods. 

“Please, don’t ask me what it looked like. I’ve let my memory get so warped over the years. All people wanted to do was ask me questions about his face. What distinct features to watch out for. How he walked. The color of his eyes.”

My heart skips a beat. The eye color…..that could determine everything.

“One night,” Joseph goes on without missing a moment, “this group came to me. They told me they couldn’t trust the police to catch the Reaper. That they could be the only ones to bring the town to justice. So they sat me down and quizzed me. It went on for what felt like hours, I lost track of time. My brain fried from all those questions coming at me.” And I….” He stutters for a second, then he clamps his mouth shut. His glances up at the curve ceiling, gritting his teeth. He’s hiding a crucial detail. If Zelda or Hilda were in my place, they’d have the truth-telling spell rolling off their tongues. The other Church members would be torturing him for answers as we currently speak. Joseph’s lucky he’s got Hiram and me as a lending ear. He just needs to trust us. We’re on his side. We’re not Rose Blossom. Or Hal for that matter.

Joseph returns his eyes back to our level, looking more gloomy than when we first laid eyes on him. After a brief period of silence, he owns up, “I had enough, so I just told them what came first into my head. The eyes. Shape of the Reaper’s face. Height….from what I was able to see. It seemed to satisfy them, and they went away. I thought it was over, I thought people would leave me alone….” The tears pick up, his weeping echoes through the room. “They caught a man and buried him alive in Pickens Park. A random man, based on my description alone. It was all over the news. I never knew his name. I never met him. And they still killed him….just because I panicked. I put an innocent man to death. I killed him. I killed him….” The story ends, and Joseph sobs. The photo falls out of his hands, the group led by Rose brightly smiling up at us. I bend down to pick it up, feeling my own eyes water. How could they do this? How could Rose Blossom willingly lead such a horrible crime? They didn’t even bother to find proper suspects. They never tried to find other options. They got desperate and stupid. All because Rose wanted to make Riverdale her family’s way. That’s probably why Hal went after the Blossoms.

I hear Joseph collapse onto the bed, but I’m still glaring at this photo. Something’s off about it, and I can’t tell what. Someone in this photo is giving me a bad vibe, and it’s not Rose. It makes my head heavy. It makes the tattoo on my thigh ache. Did Hal go after anyone else in this group?

“You should go.” Joseph exaggerates, catching me off guard. He looks down at the photo and points at it. “Take it with you. I don’t want to see their faces again. I don’t want to be reminded of what happened.”

Hiram rolls his eyes. “This is madness.” He steps out to Joseph, holding out his hand. “Just come back with us. We can protect you. You shouldn’t have to rot in here, regretting every little thing you did wrong.” I’m stunned. I don’t think I’ve seen Hiram act so selfless around another person besides me. He’s doing it for a stranger. A survivor. Joseph shoves the hand away, becoming more swallowed by the extreme guilt. “Joseph,” Hiram sounds more stern, as if he were scolding Veronica, “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

Joseph looks up at me. His gaze softens, very childlike, and the crying stops. He wipes away a tear with the cuff of his sleeve. The corners of his mouth inch upward. He speaks to me, “You’re a kind lady. The world needs more people like you.” I….I don’t know how to respond. I haven’t really done anything except heal his ankle. I gave him that injury. Why does he see me as kind? 

He glances back and forth between the two of us. “Don’t worry about me. I made my bed. You two still got your lives ahead. Now, go. Don’t let the Reaper get you on the way out.” Then, without another word, he turns his head to the pillow, moving so he can rest his head. I watch his body collapse into the tiny bed. He curls up like a young child. It’s like he’s forgotten Hiram and I are here. I worry that Hiram may have put a sleep spell on him, but it doesn’t look like it. I don’t sense any use of external magic. This is Joseph’s coping technique. He shuts down and gets quiet. He shuts out the world around him. He lets the demons in his head consume his thoughts. And he won’t let anyone pull him out. It’s heartbreaking.

“Alice….” Hiram touches my arm, sending a shock through my veins. I see the worrisome glance in his eyes. He’s just as confused and as saddened as me. I fear that the longer we stay here, the more we’ll get consumed by the tragedy of Joseph’s life. And the less time we have to really analyze what Howard found on Hal.

I force myself to breathe, fighting back tears. I mutter to Hiram, “We should go.” It’s not like I don’t want to help Joseph. I do. He lost his whole family. He condemned an innocent man. He had to escape conspiracy theorists, reporters, and ghosts. And I thought my issues were bad.

I don’t want to look at any of this anymore, and for whatever reason, that photo is making my tattoo itch. I need to get out of this bunker. So, I turn on my heel and march back over to the ladder. I fold the photo and grip onto it with one hand as I carefully make my way back up to the land of the living.

Sharp, cold air stings my eyeballs when I emerge. My knees go into the snow when I crawl out of the hole, I have to catch my breath from the extreme movement. The photo curls and crinkles in my hand. The cold mitigates the burning of my tattoo but only to a certain degree. Is this photo hexed or something? What is causing this to happen? I hear a grunt behind me, and I whip my head to find Hiram landing in the snow, slamming the bunker door shut. He stares out into the woods blankly. Then, he sits down on top of the metal door, running his hands down his jaw. I crawl over to the bunker door and join him. I have to be careful of my tattoo when I climb up to rest on the door.

I look over at Hiram and sign. “Well, there’s something you don’t see everyday.” That makes him laugh. I nudge him with my elbow to quiet him. I sit up straighter against the cold metal. My tattoo still stings.

Hiram leans his head towards me. “You have the photo?” I hand it to him without a word. He unfolds it and glances at it for some time. “Probably all parents of our classmates, but I can’t make out anyone else besides Rose. I can see why Joseph got so intimidated by them, though. They look like they eat nails for breakfast.” This time, I’m laughing. This group Rose spent her time with all appear so ferocious. They’d be the type to convert you to their ways of thinking. No wonder witches like Hiram’s mother skipped out before it all went to hell. Hiram folds the photo back into quarters and shoves it into the pocket of his overcoat. “We should get back to the house. I don’t think it’d be wise for us to sit out here for much longer.”

I scoff. “Yeah, no shit. I’m freezing my ass off out here.” I have to push myself up using the metal door as support. The leg where my tattoo resides tenses when I put pressure on my foot. I’m trying not to make this sudden uncomfortable notion known to him. Well, he does ask if I’m okay, but I just shrug it off. I nod and tell him I’m fine. I’m not really, but he doesn’t need to know that right now. I don’t need him, or anyone else in my circle lately, to constantly worry about me. I need to start tending to myself. I start to limp back in the direction from where we came. The house isn’t that far….is it? Fox Lane has to just be on the other side of these woods. Okay, maybe I’m acting bitter because I was an idiot who didn’t dress warmer. But in my defense, I didn’t plan on chasing Joseph Conway into the woods. In the middle of goddamn winter. 

My thigh aches the more pressure I put on it. The cold wind bites at my skin. But I keep my focus forward. I need to get back to Fox Lane, grab that shit out of the Conway’s House, and dig into Hal’s wrongdoings. My teeth chatter. My fingers are beginning to go numb. This sucks. I’m cold. Can I just go back to the warmth of my trailer, or even Pembrooke, to have a nice cup of hot chocolate? Maybe in front of a cozy fireplace like I’m in some cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie? Even with something, or someone….

A heavy fabric drapes over my shoulders. My back is embraced by heat. I only now pick up on Hiram standing next to me. “Here, you need it more than I do.” He steps in front of me to adjust the coat on my shoulders. Wow, that’s….really nice of him. He’s done nice things for me, but….damn, I could hug him right now. What am I saying? What’s happening? It’s just a coat! Why am I….

“Thanks.” I mutter, shutting my brain off for a second. I’m still learning to get used to these kind gestures. A soft grin forms on my face. I feel warmer with this coat on, and with Hiram so close to me. I balance on one foot as I roll out my other ankle. I do the same to the other side to stretch it out. Once I’m finished, I take him by the hand. We head out of the woods and back to the comfort of civilization. 

I only hope this isn’t the last time I see Joseph. 

  
  


XXXXXXXX

**SABRINA**

The architecture of this place astonishes me. It reminds me so eerily of the place where Aunties go for their Church of Night meetings. Except much brighter. And the place isn’t filled with devilish ghouls or whispering witches. It’s only the elderly getting wheeled around by their nurses, people in white coats muttering prayers to their crosses. The whole act is still foreign to me. I still don’t know why I haven’t bursted into smoke and flames at the sight of all of this. Everything I grew up with living under Aunties’ roof and nonchalantly singing the hymns of the Dark Lord contradicts what I see now. But I guess I’m lucky. These nurses and worshippers see the human side of me, not my witch side.

Ahead of me, Jughead and Joaquin catch each other up on their lives. “You still keeping in touch with the gang?”

“Briefly. Last I heard, Sweet Pea signed on to play basketball for some regional team when he finished college. Dead-ass, I thought he’d drop out, but Sweets stayed determined. Still waiting to see if he can move up to the NBA, but for now, he’s active and happy. Fangs started dating some red-head girl and joined some weird church group. The Farm, he calls it. But….how do I say this politely? Hmmm….”

“You think he joined a cult.”

“Exactly.” Joaquin smirks. He turns to me, “Don’t get me wrong, I care about the man. But from the way he described Evelyn….the red-head….and her group, I was getting sketched out. I mean, _Kill Bill_ sirens were going off in my head.” Jughead flushes, he chuckles into the sleeve of his flannel. I don’t quite get the reference, but I trust Joaquin on his weary caution.

Jughead asks, “What about Toni?”

Joaquin slows his pace, turning back to Jughead. I’m also curious to know. Who’s Toni? What happened to….him? Her? Joaquin tilts his head to one side. “You didn’t hear, Jones? Toni moved back home to the Southside. She’s running her granddad’s shop.”

“Hold on. You mean that creepy oddities shop near the Wyrm?” My head perks up. An oddity shop? I’ve heard stories of Aunt Ali obtaining her earlier books and tools from a hole-in-the-wall place on the Southside. Could this be the same place she referred to?

“Not just oddities, Jones.” Joaquin faces me again. “Our friend has this family shop where they sell all these crystals and occult items.” I grin from ear to ear. Well, it sounds like Jughead and Joaquin may have befriended a witch. Perhaps I can make time before I head back to Greendale to meet this Toni.

“Sounds cool.” I comment, to Joaquin’s amusement. “What? I’m into….the strange and the unusual.” I tell him without giving away too many details. He seems to buy my answer, so I can relax my shoulders. The whole atmosphere of the Sisters is beginning to diminish my outlook on the matter. But this good mood will go away once I lay eyes on Rose Blossom.

We arrive outside a room, a little window beams a ray of light from inside. They have her name written on a dry-erase board. The print is smudged at the edges. No noise comes from inside this room. Is she asleep? Is she…. I’m frightened to think of the possibilities. I’m about to come face to face with a notorious witch-hunter. What would Aunties think if they found out? What controversies will this spark in correlation with my trial? 

Jughead tugs at the fabric of my coat. I blink, leaving my fazed out state. I look up at him. “If you wanna stay out here….” he whispers, “I can tackle the interview alone. I don’t want to force you into anything you’re not comfortable with.” A dread builds up in me. My teeth chatter. The hair on my arms raises. The sickness I fought off is creeping back in, I may never recover from what Salem gave me.

But I can’t give up on Jughead. I have to do this. For Chuck. For Midge. For Ali.

“I’ll go with you.” I lift up the corners of my mouth. Like they say, fake it ‘til you make it. Baby steps, Sabrina. 

Joaquin goes to open the door for us. He tells us to wait for a second. I hear Jughead huff next to me. I raise a brow at him, begging for an explanation. “What are you thinking, Teenage Witch? Will we get Miss Havisham or General Kurtz?” I could laugh. Two literary characters driven mad? Seems very fitting.

I don’t get a chance to reply, because Joaquin pokes his head out of the door. He waves for us to come in. Jughead gives my shoulders a gentle shake. “If you need out, let me know.” Saliva clumps in my mouth, I have to swallow it down. I bob my head up and down, signaling a yes. Time to go.

One step, then another. The temperature drops as I step into the room. The lights hum above us. Metal bars holding the bed together gleam in the sunlight pouring in from the sole window. A draft breeze enters, weaving its way through my limbs. Across from the bed, in the other corner of the room, a wheelchair sits facing the window. A figure sits in that chair without a word. Gray hair is tied up in a bun. A streak of dark red stands out.

Joaquin wanders over to the figure and kneels down. “Miss Rose?” The figure doesn’t respond. He looks back at us with a worried glance. He lifts a finger, he has this under control. He rises up, coming more into the figure’s view. “Miss Rose? You have visitors. People who wish to speak with you.”

The mannequin comes to life. A plastered, aged face twists in our direction. Her lips stay in a neutral line. Her cheekbones sit high. Her eyes….one is a different color. Almost like glass. Underneath the decaying complexion, a voice is only heard by me. One that has been waiting for this moment to come. _Witch._

I gasp at the sight of this woman, at the sound that no one else could hear. I jump back, colliding into Jughead. His mouth hovers over my ear. 

“The horror! The horror!” he hisses. I could slap him, even if he was only trying to be funny.

Joaquin places his hand on top of the older woman’s wrist. “They’re from the newspaper in Riverdale. They just have a few questions they would like to ask you.”

Rose Blossom keeps her eyes straight on me. That little voice replays, the one word getting louder at each incantation. It’s just the one hallucination, but it sounds like a chorus of angry mobsters demanding for my execution. She blinks in silence, once, twice. The furrowed line from her lips disappears.

“Who?” It’s sweeter than I anticipated. It’s innocent. I release the air I never realized I held onto. My fists unclench. Maybe she can’t pick up on my witchcraft. Maybe old age is starting to get to her.

Joaquin sighs in frustration and repeats his description of us. With Jughead behind me, acting as a shield, I inch closer to the old woman. _She’s harmless_ , I have to remind myself. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. Maybe she could, all those years ago, but not now. The space between us and her evaporates with each scuffle. Joaquin motions for us to sit down on the bed across from her. The bed creaks when we go down one at a time. I don’t know how Rose Blossom can sleep on this thing. It’s firm and stiff. I smooth down my pant legs, trying not to make direct eye contact with anyone. My gaze goes to the window. Natural light bleeds in. Whispers scratch at my brain like I’m recovering from a hex. I feel my jaw tighten. Will something horrible happen if I stay in a place so holy for too long?

“You look a bit young to work for the paper.” Rose chirps. My heart flies out of my chest. I bring my attention back to those beady little eyes. Well, one normal eye and one so much like glass. I watch her fold her arms over her lap.

Jughead coughs. “Um, it’s for the school paper. For Riverdale High.” I nod in agreement. I would speak up, but something about Rose leaves me speechless. And not in a good way. It’s like she wants to stare into my soul, to unravel my secrets, to expose me for what I am.

Rose giggles to herself. “I remember looking at those newspapers for the kids. Nice to see how much they love their town. Such pride.” Her words shake when they leave her mouth. She glances down at her lap, her mismatched eye taking a while to linger down. Should we start firing questions at her? Or would it be more polite of us to let her ramble and draw it out of her like unraveling string from a ball of yarn?

I look to Jughead, waiting for him to make the appropriate move. I feel like I let him down during our interview with Moose. I let my personal issues take precedence over the article. I can’t go through that again. I need to be here for Jughead. And I want answers from Rose Blossom.

“I fought to make that town nice, you know.” Rose begins suddenly, catching our interest. Jughead hurries to flip his notebook open to a clean page and click his pen. I rest my hands onto my knees, digging my nails into the caps. We listen as Rose tells us her story.

“My father, Barnabas, brought great fortune to that little town. He and Mister Pickens together. When I came of age, I wanted to uphold my father’s vision. To make Riverdale a place of greatness. A place free of sin….of wickedness….” She pauses, keeping her eyes on me. My stomach rises and falls in sync with my heartbeat. I can feel the air being sucked out of me. _Please don’t see past my cover_ , my mind chants. _Please don’t see me as a witch_.

Rose scowls, her face turning gloomy. “But they all changed when that….monster arrived.”

Jughead pesters, “You mean….the Reaper?” Rose brings her soulless glance to him. I exchange a quick, fearful look with Joaquin. The vents above us hiss.

“That’s dangerous territory, dear boy.” she squawks. I realize that she sounds like an older, more cryptid version of Auntie Z. Her tone is nearly identical. My shoulder blades press together. My arms squeeze at my sides. I shouldn’t let Jughead take the brunt of Rose Blossom’s nosy attitude.

I break my silence. “It’s what our article covers.” I feel Rose’s eyes on me like daggers. The boys stare at me too. I clear my throat and continue. “We’re writing about the 50th anniversary. Of the Reaper killings.” My voice gives out on me. I’m usually so outspoken, not afraid to speak what’s on my mind. But something about Rose Blossom’s presence causes my courage to fade. 

But this cannot be what breaks me. I’ve faced worse. I have a trial looming over my head, a reputation at stake. One old woman who hunted down a serial killer should not diminish my light. My fingers curl in, my nails glide up and down my palms. I release them. I stare Rose Blossom in the eye. 

“You’re the only witness we could find. And, it’s like you just said…. You and your family made Riverdale. So….” I pause, focusing on the rhythm of my breath. Now, I wish I brought Dad’s amulet with me, which I foolishly left back at the trailer park. But this interview takes more precedence. “You’re our one shot at uncovering the truth. To tell all of Riverdale the truth.”

I end my little speech there. Rose remains silent in her wheelchair. Jughead and Joaquin blink at me, half in amusement, half in nervousness. My throat has the same scratch I endured on the night of my birthday. What I said still lingers in my brain, the words sit on my tongue. _I won’t sign it away._ Did I really know what I was getting myself into? What I would drag Ali into, forcing her out of her comforting life at the bakery? Come to think of what I’ve faced in the past few weeks, maybe the Dark Lord intended for my Aunts to send me away to Riverdale. Maybe he wanted me to serve a punishment in the form of killing two of my classmates, entangling myself with a small town’s dark history, waiting to be teared apart at the seams. Maybe this is all to prove that I can’t operate on my own. That the only way I can control what’s in me is by following my father’s footsteps. I fear that no matter how far I run, no matter what activities I distract myself with, my family name will bound me to a path I cannot escape.

Rose Blossom must have faced the same dilemma. I can see the wheels turning behind her glossy stare. Her family name gave her a duty, and she followed a path destined for her. She led the town to what she wanted to believe was utopia, but all Riverdale became was a graveyard. A place to bury the skeletons and sins. This is the reality that Jughead, and V, and Archie, and everyone else my age has to live in. I recognize that, and I’ve only been in Riverdale for a short amount of time. Luck be on my side that Rose Blossom recognizes it too.

My teeth grasp onto some flesh from inside my cheeks. I can feel my tongue shrivel up. I think I ruined Jughead’s chance of making a good article. What was I thinking? Why did I even bother to speak up? What am I doing here?

**_You’re here for us_ ** , familiar voices announce within me. Voices that sound like the ones I killed. Like the ones who died before I stepped foot in Riverdale. **_You’re here because you want to know why he killed us. Why you let him kill us. You and_ **

“I’ve made hard decisions, dear girl.” Rose croaks out, startling us all. The voices cut out. They were going to say another name. Someone else who was manipulated by…..wait, that’s not possible. Salem couldn’t have turned to some other witch before me. But those kids from when Jughead’s dad, from when Ali went to school. Ali talked about some mistake, some horrible deed that caused her to leave. 

Could the dead…. Could they be referring to Ali?

I want to break down all the variables and analyze them, but I can’t focus on what Ali may or may not have to do with those dead kids, or how Salem plays into all of it. Rose Blossom is talking, and I need to act as another set of eyes and ears for Jughead.

She tells us, “I spoke words that resulted in criticism, I made sacrifices for my family. But what I did, what I led….I did it all for Riverdale. The group I created to search for the Riverdale Reaper was my greatest accomplishment.” I’m tempted to comment on the matter, but I have to bite my tongue. The thought still lingers. What about your own children? How did you handle their deaths?

“You led witch-hunts,” Jughead prompts, the words stinging a little too personally. “and that brought about a wave of fear. How exactly did that all end?”

“Well, we found the man.” she shrugs like it’s not a big deal. Wow, even in old age, she still wears her pride on her sleeves. I envy her unapologetic confidence. “Buried him right in front of the big oak tree in Pickens Park. And good thing we did. A poor family was murdered for no reason.” Now our interests are peaking. Jughead and I glance over at one another, both of us with wide grins. Our eyes say the words we want to say to each other. _The Conways._

Jughead repositions himself to face Rose, keeping his notebook steady in his lap. “Was that when the witch-hunts were taken more seriously?” She hesitates to answer, I’m worried we may have lost her. Then, she shakes her head.

“It was when it ended. A little boy gave us the information we needed.” Jughead leans back, almost falling backwards onto the bed. I get dizzy myself. A boy led Rose and her gang to find the Reaper? How could we have not heard about this? Unless the town is succeeding at hiding all of its secrets….

I watch Jughead frantically scratch at his notebook. He stutters, “Wait…..wait, what boy? Did he see the man you killed?”

“Gave us quite the detailed description.” she smiles. “Although…..I can’t recall what made the Reaper distinct. That’s my old age getting to me. Yet, I applaud how that boy was able to provide that information. Especially when he hid like a rabbit hiding during hunting season.”

My mouth hangs. So the boy survived the wrath of the Riverdale Reaper….that’s new. All Jughead and I found were the victims. The dead bodies. Not one survivor made the list. Yet, this little boy….somehow he miraculously lived. But who? Who lived to tell the tale? Most importantly, how would this connect back to the Conways….

The Conways. There were two Conway children. Perhaps one of them really did live and described the Reaper to Rose Blossom. Wait, they both ended up dying. So who…. 

“Was it a Conway?” I ask, beating Jughead to the punch. Rose interlaces her fingers together in her lap. She blinks her glassy eye at me, not muttering a word. Her silence is freaking me out. 

There a third child? One who has been hidden from Riverdale’s history?

“Oh, don’t get into too many questions, girl.” Rose chastises me. “I barely remember the boy’s name. All I remember was that he was a Conway. Had the face, hair, and everything. The police found the poor thing hiding under his bed. In the room where his siblings met their unfortunate demises.” She sounds giddy bringing up the subject. Like it was her that rescued the unknown Conway child. It’s sickening.

Jughead scribbles down more notes. He nudges me with his elbow, wanting me to peer down at his findings. He taps down on one part with his pen. It reads, _Ask about Reaper features?_ I look back up at him and nod. If this supposed Conway survived, he must have laid eyes on the Reaper. I gesture for him to raise the question, and he does. 

Rose leans back, her head against the wooden plank of her wheelchair. She shuts her eyes. Wait, is she starting to fall asleep? Is something off? I mouth to Joaquin, _What’s happening_ , and wait for Rose to snap out of whatever is wrong. “She gets dizzy sometimes.” he explains, going through his routine procedures. He checks her pulse. He cups her face to watch for signs of breath. He places two fingers on the side of her neck. He pauses, then he sighs in relief. I watch his thumb shoot up into the air. Rose is still alive. I could lose the tension in my shoulders. I should be happy. Rose is okay….but why does she look possessed?

Her eyes snap open. Her grip on her wheelchair tightens. She fixates on me. She lurches, forward, I practically jump back towards the wall. Joaquin recoils away from her. Jughead doesn’t know what to make of this.

Rose speaks only to me. “You’ve seen him. You know what he has done.” My heart goes up my throat. My eyes sting. Who is she referring to? The Reaper? Salem? My heart wants me to run, to leave the Sisters of Quiet Mercy and to never return. But my head wants answers. 

I slide off the bed. Jughead hisses out my name, but I ignore him. Something has bewitched Rose, that whatever she has hidden from years of triumph and loss wants to be freed. Joaquin tells me to be careful as I kneel down in front of the old woman, like I’m the one under a spell.

“You must go home, girl.” she breathes, “He will eat you alive.” I’m silent to the bone with my mouth hanging. I still don’t know why she would say this. Who is after me? Rose persists, “He cannot be stopped. He plagues all that he touches. Including my children.”

My eyes widen, my jaw clamps shut. She remembers what happened at Thornhill. If she won’t use her words, then…..

I muster up the courage and inch forward. “I’m sorry, Miss Blossom.” I say, and I mean it, though my intentions stay behind my teeth. I’m sorry for what you had to endure. And for what I’m about to do.

I place my hands onto her wrists. I shut my eyes, breathe in, and conjure her memories with my craft. 

The humming of the lights ceases. The roughness of Rose Blossom’s skin fades from my touch. I smell fire, I feel warmth. I open my eyes, and I’m standing next to a younger Rose, sitted in a velvet loveseat across from the fireplace. She’s talking to someone, berating them. I look to see….a young girl about my age sliding on an old Vixens jacket. I’ve seen her before. The red hair and high cheekbones glow with the fire’s light.

_It’s not like I’m visiting a slum, Mummy_ , I hear the girl speak to her mother. _I’m going to the school play. Someone has to talk some sense into Hermione before she falls under the spell of that Serpent girl._

_You’re not going anywhere without my permission, young lady!_ Rose’s voice leaves me on edge. I’m trying to make out the environment of this moment. Was this the night of the Thornhill fire? And who is the Serpent scum girl this red-haired Vixen mentioned? Rose croaks, _I should have had you and Clifford sent to boarding school, where they actually teach you discipline and manners._

_Relax, Mummy. Besides, I think I found out how to give Alice Smith a taste of her own medicine._ My heart stops. Aunt Ali? Wait….is Smith really her maiden name? I always knew her as just Alice or Aunt Ali. But Alice Smith sounds so foreign. For all I know, this could be someone else entirely. Part of me wishes that it’s all just a major coincidence. That Ali just happens to share the same name as this….Alice Smith….

_And what exactly is that, nightmare child?_

_She stole my best friend, so I’m snatching that boy of hers._ The layers add up, but I can’t keep up with the pace of the conversation. Rose asks who, and the daughter replies, _Hal Cooper, duh! He’s practically been all over her since Halloween night! And who knows how the hell---_

_Penelope Blossom, you watch your language!_ I see Rose rise from the loveseat. The younger Blossom girl, Penelope, grips the back of the chair opposite. They continue to bicker, but my head remains glued on the name thrown out. Hal Cooper….did Ali have a boyfriend? Why have I never heard of this man? Was he the reason that she….

**_GET OUT_ **

The violent hiss rattles my ear drums. I bring my hands up to block out the noise. The words wriggle through my fingers, traveling through my bones and veins. It hurts. Is this of Rose’s doing, or something else? Something that doesn’t want me to unveil the truth.

A high-pitched shriek sends my senses haywire. It sounds like a girl. _MUMMY, HELP ME!_

**_BOOM_ **

**_CRASH_ **

I open my eyes, my hands lower. Fire escalates all around me, beams fall, wallpaper and oil paintings melt. I only realize too late that I’m in the heat of it all. Literally. Above me, the young Blossom girl makes an attempt to fly down the stairs, to find Rose. She doesn’t make it far. Behind her, a tall looming figure reaches for her, the knuckles stand out in the flame’s glow.

**_GET OUT_ **

Penelope is yanked back. “No!” I scream. I run up the elongated staircase, but my viewpoint is stretching. Every step I take gets matched with the figure dragging Penelope by her orange locks. She’s in pain, she silently prays to God. The figure opens its mouth, revealing daggers for teeth. It bites.

I open my mouth to scream but nothing comes out. This must have been similar to what Midge endured. I saw no evidence of getting eaten, but she suffered. The same as this girl. And I can’t do anything to stop this monster, even if it is all just a memory. Penelope’s screams get muffled by the persistent, thundering hiss.

**_GET OUT_ **

“WHO ARE YOU?” I yell, hoping it will provoke the anonymous voice to reveal itself. Yet, the figure hears me. It stops attacking Penelope. It looks up at me.

Light eyes. Oval face. The same face one Moose and I saw. The same eyes that stared me down in my dream. _The one wearing the black hood._

The figure rises from Penelope, her blood dribbling down its chin. The figure looks so human, it’s hard to see it as something else. Something more sinister. The humanlike monster walks over Penelope. His footsteps thunder on the breaking staircase. It studies me with curiosity. How is it possible for this thing to see me? Am I acting as Rose Blossom, or is it all….

I raise my voice, curling my hands into fists. “WHO ARE YOU?” 

The figure stops. It stares me down with those bright eyes. I shudder. I have to remember where else I’ve seen them. Why do they look like….

It smiles. It says, “Why don’t you ask your Aunt Ali?”

A hand shoves at my shoulders. I’m pushed away. Everything gets blurry. My head hits the back of….the bed frame. I’m back in Rose’s cell. My hands shake. I look down and notice violent burn marks on my hands. In front of me, Rose Blossom breathes heavily. Her fingers claw at the knobs of her wheelchair. She keeps staring me down, like….Him.

“Hell is empty….all the devils are here.” she mutters the famous Shakespearean words. Then, her mouth begins to foam.

“JOAQUIN, WHAT THE FUCK?” Jughead screams. I feel his arms loop under my armpit, pulling my back up to my feet. I stumble into his hold. My brain vibrates. My nose is dry and stinging. I think I might throw up. 

Joaquin rises up and takes a hold of my face. “Hey, kid. Look at me. You doing alright?” I say nothing, I don’t I can even open my mouth. Joaquin examines my hands, gaping at the burn marks. He sends Jughead a wide-eyed look of horror. He grabs our materials from Rose’s bed, carefully slinging it over Jughead’s shoulder. “Get her out of here. I’ll get Rose back under stable condition. Then,” he looks back down at me. “We’ll get your hands healed up. I promise.” While fighting back the urge to puke, I nod. Joaquin skirts around us to open back up the door. He ushers for us to follow him, and we do. I would want to look back at Rose Blossom. I want to see if I hurt her with my craft. I need to know if she will be alright. She saw something that night. And I saw it too. And for whatever reason, it does not want me to know….

**_Why don’t you ask your Aunt Ali?_ **

My ears ring. My innards want to come out. I’m ached by words and by scorching touch that I don’t pick up on the fact that we’re outside. The bleakness of the snowy day snaps me awake. I scan my new environment. Some patients are wheeled around by nurses, not noticing our presence. Joaquin is no longer with us, he probably returned indoors to take care of Rose. Jughead leads me over to a shady service under a tree. He tries to sit me down at the little bench, but my legs won’t budge. The cool air eases my pain, but the voice in my head won’t go away.

Why did that figure break through the memory like that? And why…..why did it sound like Salem?

**_Why don’t you ask your Aunt Ali?_ **

My stomach twists. I fall to my knees and hurl over the bench. The pastry breakfast and coffee comes out. The back of my head throbs. Tears form at the corners of my eyes. My throat goes dry when I finish. I carefully rotate around, allowing my back to lean against the concrete. Staying in this position doesn’t help, so I bring my knees up to my shoulder blades. I bow my head, letting the dark atmosphere cure me.

Jughead rubs his hand across my shoulders. “You alright, Teenage Witch?” I mumble, but he doesn’t quite hear it. I lift my head up, resting my chin on my knuckles. I wince at the pain coming from my head. Jughead picks up on this. “So, uh….you wanna tell me what happened back there?”

“Other than I think I gave myself a concussion….” I lift one hand to touch the forming lump. I pick up on that my palms don’t sting. I suddenly bring my hand back. I turn my palms upward. No burn marks are present. They were there….I swear they were. Oh Lucifer, am I losing my sanity?

I trace fingers down where the marks were. My skin is smooth and unharmed. My teeth chatter from the cold. My bones shake from my current mental state. Now, I’m really starting to question if I even saw the fire….

The fire. The blood. The eyes.

“I saw him, Jughead.” my voice squeaks, though it feels like nothing emerged from my throat. I close my fingers around my palms, no longer focusing on the sensation. I gently twist my head up to meet his perplexed gaze. “It was the Reaper. He started the fire at Thornhill. He killed the Blossoms.”

Jughead rests against the bench, unable to respond back. He readjusts the beanie on his head. “Shit. What kind of magic was that?”

“I don’t know!” I whine. I bring my hand back to the lump and do my best to carefully massage it. I hate to admit it, but I made a stupid decision. What was I thinking, trying to use my craft when I haven’t fully recovered from an unknown sickness? 

I shake off the notion, not wanting to upset my stomach, or my head, again. “One moment, I was looking at a memory as a spectator. Next, I….I’m living out the scene. I’m experiencing the fear. I feel the heat from the fire. I….” I stop myself before I let my next sentence roll off my tongue. _I feel Penelope Blossom bleeding out to death, all before her corpse turns to ashes._

“Yikes.” Jughead rubs his hands together and blows into them. I see his breath float out into the winter air. “Sounds like you're dealing with oneirataxia.” My head goes light. Patients and nurses float through the scene in front of us. I gaze at Jughead, not sure of how to carry the conversation. He drops his shoulders. “ _Oneirataxia_. It’s the inability to distinguish between fantasy and reality---”

“I know what _oneirataxia_ means.” I tell him, my voice going deep. Now I’m worried that I insulted him. I release my knees from my grip. I use my hands to gesture when I say, “I don’t think I’ve been shaken up like that during any spell, whether alone or with my family. It’s like anything I do lately has not gone well. It hasn’t been right since....” I come to a stop. Jughead doesn’t know the full details behind Midge’s death. The meek voice in the back of my brain finishes the sentence, _Since Salem drained me_. 

Thinking about the feverish dream causes the throbbing on my head injury to increase. I wince again and bite my lip. I’ll need to use some healing spell, or some pain medication, to get rid of this thing before Ali finds out.

Ali…. The figure told me to ask her of his identity. Of her connection to the fire at Thornhill, and to the kids in Ali and Mister Jones’s class. Of that boy. The one Penelope mentioned to Rose.

“Have you heard of Hal Cooper?” I croak. Jughead raises his brow. So he’s unaware of the name, just as much as me. I sigh, then, with some of my strength coming back, I push down on the wet grass to face him. “Does the name sound familiar to you?”

“Not quite sure where you’re going, Sabrina.” he admits, and I don’t blame him. “But...the last name….Cooper….sounds like a trust fund baby of a founder of Riverdale.”

“In the vision, Rose’s daughter said it.”

“Okay….” Jughead begins to catch up to my point. “So, you think he attended school with my dad and your aunt?” I nod, confirming his theory. Jughead reaches for his backpack and pulls out his notebook. He scratches at the pages for a small bit, then he stops. I look down to find _Hal Cooper_ written into the margins of our interview notes. “I can look into it when we get back to town. With a last name like Cooper, and with a Blossom having knowledge of it, that could bring up some potential research. Maybe a new direction of our case.” He gets giddy over the subject. It makes me glad. Yet….I still can’t quite shake the tiny voice in my brain. Something begging for me to be careful at what I’m digging into.

I watch Jughead tap his pen on the notebook. “One thing I’m still lost about, Teenage Witch.” He looks up at me. “What would this Hal Cooper have to do with the Riverdale Reaper?” I stare off into the distance. I don’t see any sign of Joaquin in the courtyard. He must still be caring for Rose. I feel awful for what happened. But, I don’t know if I hurt Rose….or if she hurt me.The voice yelling for me to get out wanted me to leave for a reason.

**_Ask your Aunt Ali._ **

“Because….” I start to tell Jughead, unsure of how to handle this theory. It may not be a theory at all, it could be all fact. I’m afraid to admit that out loud. And I’m afraid to admit what has popped into my mind. “I think Aunt Ali knew him.”

XXXXXXXX

**ALICE**

Knots twist in my stomach. The faces on this photo blur together. I hear Hiram and FP conversing in the background, but their words mesh and blend, it sounds more like static. My thigh still has a dull ache, my tattoo screams for me to itch at it, to relieve my thigh of the pain. My palms desire the taste of my nails. _No. Don’t give in. Take deep breaths._ No matter how much I focus on my breathing, I can’t shake off the stinging. I can’t ignore this aching pain. What does that photo want from me?

A figure flops down on the couch next to me. I take my attention off the photo to find Gladys hunched over the table with a lollipop in her mouth. She takes it out to speak to me. “You want my honest opinion, witch? These folks don’t come off as the peer pressuring type. Give off more of a “convert you” kind of type.” She cackles at her own joke. My mood lifts, but I fail to laugh myself. She notices that. “Sorry. Too close to home?” 

“Oh. No, no.” I snag the photo off the table and hand it to her. “The Church of Night makes these people look like the losing dodgeball team in gym class.” She shoves the lollipop back into her mouth, smirking at the photo. In the background, FP and Hiram continue to bicker over our earlier confrontation with Joseph. One of them disappears into the Jones’s bedroom to get JB for help. It’s a smart move. With her tech savviness, she can pull up the information we need. If anyone in this photo is still alive, besides Rose (and I would prefer not to lay another eye on that woman as long as she breathes), we need to reach out to them.

Thinking about the group more causes my tattoo to burn, my thigh to cramp up. I wince without trying to make it obvious. Gladys shoots me a worried glance. “Did a lot of running in the snow.” I lie, brushing it off.

“Really. Running in the snow is causing your tattoo trouble?” she gestures down to my leg with the lollipop, not buying my excuse. I open my mouth to fight back but stop. I watch JB wave her father away as she boots up her laptop. I lock eyes with Hiram for a moment, my emotions ranging from desperate to embarrassed. I eventually turn away, not wanting to give up my weak point. From the corner of my eye, Hot Dog waddles over to me, resting his chin on my good knee. I give his head some scratches, which helps to relieve my tension. Gladys perches her elbows onto her knees. She talks in a low voice, “What’s going on? Your Spidey senses picking up something in this photograph?”

I lean back into the couch, not sure if I’m suppressing a giggle or a sarcastic comment. I’ve never heard of anyone refer to my witchcraft as some superpower from a comic book. Not like I ever really identified with superheroes anyway….

I pick up the photo from the coffee table. I strategize out loud to Gladys, “I think Hal got to someone in this group. Joseph told us he felt pressured to give an answer even when he knew it was wrong. Hal would have been there for that, or he at least weaseled his way into one person’s mind.”

“You think he was willing to allow someone to act as the town’s scapegoat?” I look over to her and raise my brow. She explains, exaggerating with the lollipop in her hand, “I mean, when you did….what you did with him, weren’t you two only going after people who wronged you?” I nod my head. “So….wouldn’t that mean he’d want Joseph to pick someone who potentially caused him harm in the past?”

“Not really.” I sheepishly admit. “Joseph never spoke of anyone hurting him. Just the Reaper. And Rose’s clan. If Hal sought to get vengeance, he’d make it more obvious with his intentions. But what happened to Joseph was….so unusual. He had no reason to go after the Conways. It’s like he did it only to….” I slow my speech. I’m rambling again.

“He only did it to what?” Gladys asks. I hold off on saying anything until I can string together a reasonable explanation from my memories. I don’t think Hal acted on his own accord until after I told him to take a hike. With me, he operated with control, when I wanted him gone, he became a loose cannon, bloodthirsty for anything that came in his path. He’s that way now, even with his new witch. Otherwise, why would he care to go after two random teenagers? Why enact revenge on me? Lately, it’s like all he wants to do is……

“Create chaos.” I mutter. My inner voice echoes the words that just rolled off my tongue. _He wants to create chaos._

“Alice?” My quiet theory is silenced when Hiram calls for me. “We found something.”

“Um, excuse you.” JB sasses at him. “ _I_ did all the research. _You two_ ,” she waves a finger at FP and Hiram, “just sat there and fell asleep. Well….” she slows down, tilting her head towards Hiram, “actually, wizard, _you_ just gave Aunt Ali major heart eyes. ” We all go silent. Hiram’s mouth closes, and mine falls. He glances at me for a brief moment, then looks away in pure embarrassment. My shoulders rest against the cushions of the couch. I guess I need to do better about observing my surroundings. FP and Gladys stare at their daughter in a scolding manner. JB scrunches her face back, shrugging her shoulders. “What? I’m being observant.”

Honestly, I could divert my attention to figure out exactly how Hiram and I should define our…..arrangement. But, we need to stay focused on the Reaper-Hunting Party. I get up from the couch, “What were you able to pull up, sweetheart?”

She rotates her laptop so it faces me. I can’t read it from that far away, but it looks like a list of names. And FP clarifies that, “We got names, beyond Rose Blossom.”

I begin to head to the kitchen, limping with my bad leg. I can only go a few steps before my thigh cramps. My hand goes to my thigh. I can feel it pulsing through the fabric of my dress. I press my teeth together, I squeeze my eyes shut. My fists clench. Gladys reaches for my arm. I open my eyes, they’re all looking at me. She asks if I’m okay, and it’s like I’m heading for my execution. My burning at the stake.

I have to step aside. I need to stay strong. “I’m fine.” I lie to her, to everyone in the room. Hot Dog gallops over to the kitchen. He pauses at the table, looking up at the humans towering over him. I silently hope Hiram won’t sense my masked dread. I have to lean on my good leg to relieve the pressure. I ignore FP and Hiram’s stares as I limp towards JB. “So we have a list of all the names?”

“Yep! Same one I saw last week.” she nods. I regret not having the girl read these names out to me sooner. They were right in front of her when she researched the tragedy of Thornhill. It may have saved us time. But that was then. And now we know better. JB brings the laptop back to her view, squinting down, “I don’t recognize the last names. Like I said - jerks with lots of money. And they sound too vintage.”

“We might know them, Miss Jones.” Hiram defends on behalf of the adults. “We attended school with their children.” He glances at me, afraid to speak on. FP looks my way as well. The three of us, like hiding some coveted, horrid secret, collectively think of one name. Penelope Blossom. Hiram sends a fatherly glance down to the young girl. “Could you please read them to us?”  
  


JB rolls her eyes. “Really, wizard? These names are _literally_ in bold.” Her witty comeback doesn’t win her any favors. She rolls her eyes at Hiram and follows through with the command Like clockwork, the girl goes down the line. “Berkshire Mason, Roger Clarence, Graham Hollis, Louis Cooper….”

I stop paying attention to the rest of the names. My brain melts. My tattoo goes through another wave of sharp-shooting pain. I hear the one name repeat like a broken record. 

_Louis Cooper. Louis Cooper._

**_Cooper._ **

My eyes twitch. JB gets to the last name, but I need her to go back. “Wait, Jellybean. Go back to the first set of names. The first five. What….” I stutter, not able to finish. I grit my teeth as my tattoo pulses. Air blows into my nails when I release them from my palms. My fingers stretch out. My hand shakes.

“Which one am I starting at?” JB asks for clarification. “The Hollis guy? Louis Cooper?” The name rolls off the girl’s tongue with ease. My jaw tightens. My skin could burn off. I want to itch my brain. I could rip my ears out. It’s not her fault in any way or shape. It’s….

I inhale sharply. “Him. Lou….” I can’t say the name. I equate it with his. I see his……

Face.

I hobble to the table, setting my hands down and pressing into the wood. My fingers wriggle out of control. I take the laptop from JB and slide it in my direction. My heart stops.

There. In the second row. Nine people, and one face I know. It’s older, much more sophisticated. But I recognize the hair. The lines around the mouth. The color of the man’s eyes. They’re darker than the eyes I know, but the shape matches exactly.

My back straightens. Sweat drips down my hairline. I feel my feet going numb. Hot Dog winces next to me. He nudges my hand with his nose. But I can’t focus on the comfort from the dog. He was there in that group. Hal was there…..but how? Did he take on a human form before he met me? How could I not have picked up on this before? I try to remember, did Hal ever tell stories of his prior forms? Other witches? Other people….

He possessed Hermione. He’s wormed his slimy soul into the minds of the weak. Is this man….Louis Cooper….

A phone buzzes in the background. FP mumbles a curse word and shuffles out of the kitchen. Who could be calling him? I want to ask, but I’m frozen. JB rises from her seat, “Aunt Ali?” I stay perplexed at the laptop screen. The bones hidden under the flesh of my face stiffen. A new, uncomfortable sensation rises from my tattoo. Like blisters are forming. Like my tattoo is…..burning. The way it did when Hiram and I went to see Chuck Clayton’s dismembered corpse.

I press down on the table so I can rotate around. My lower back rests against the rim of the table. I bite the inside of my cheeks. Why won’t this pain go away? I’m not even looking at the damn photo. Yet, it’s like his eyes are on me. I feel him watching me. Waiting for me to fall to another weak point so I have no other choice but to go back to him.

_One way or another, he’ll find his way back to you._

“Hey, you should probably sit down.” Gladys tells me, pulling me out of my thoughts. I don’t take the offer, I remain standing. Besides, if I sit down with this sudden pain coming from my tattoo, I fear I won’t get back up.

“Let me see that photo again.” Hiram marches over to JB and glances over the girl’s shoulder at the laptop. I watch as he studies the photo. His face falls. His fingers curl inward. “Son of a bitch.” he mutters. “He was right there under their noses.”

“The hell are you talking about?” Gladys joins the two, passing by me. I can’t bring myself to stand with them. I’m alone in my….I don’t want to call it suffering, but it’s the only appropriate choice for a descriptive word coming to my head. Gladys asks which one is Louis. Hiram points him out. Even with the back of the laptop facing me, I can see the face as bright as day. Blond hair. Light eyes. Soothing voice. Eloquent persuasion turned manipulation. Sharp teeth. Blood-stained claws. 

**_And to think you didn’t want to remember_ **, a familiar voice taunts my eardrums. It creeps through the blood in my veins. Straight down to the handprint burned onto my flesh.

“Woah…..woah….Fred, slow down. What channel is it on?” FP vocalizes while pacing through the living room. I watch him carefully. What could Fred Andrews (if it is Fred from how I hear FP talking to the other end) be calling about? Did the police come across any discoveries on Chuck and Midge? Did Joseph emerge from his sanctuary? Did something happen to Jughead? To Sabrina?

Gladys wanders over to her husband, with Hiram following close behind, then by Hot Dog. Gladys reaches out, asking what’s wrong. FP holds his hand over the phone, gesturing down to the basket on the coffee table. Hot Dog whines by his owners in confusion. “Go to the news. Fred won’t explain why….” He mutters something then goes quiet. Hiram picks up a small remote control and points it at the TV. I watch it flicker to life. The screen flips to another, to the local news channel for Riverdale. 

Tom is making a public announcement outside the police station, with that younger officer, Minetta, about the latest killings. They have re-opened Chuck’s death case, reclassifying it as a murder. The police has decided to compile a list of suspects, people that may be linked to Chuck Clayton and Midge Klump, and even Moose Mason. Yet, what Tom and the other cops don’t understand is that it wasn’t a human who went after these kids. They never will, but how can a witch like me convince a town like Riverdale that…..demons exist?

The scene cuts to the young boy, he looks so vastly different from the first day I met him at Pop’s. He no longer carries that arrogant attitude. He’s broken. Mourning. Susceptible for another attack. He outlines his attack, how he tried to save his late girlfriend’s life, only to lose her in another attack. He talks about the loss of his fellow teammate. Why would Fred want us to pay attention to….

A drawing appears on the segment. A rough sketch of a man…… 

Hair. Eyes. Nose. Mouth. All of it matches the face I just laid my eyes upon on JB’s laptop.

It’s Hal.

My ears ring. My eyes water. I can’t breathe. I can’t remove my sight off that face. His face. Moose saw him. Which means Chuck and Midge must have seen him before they each suffered a most wicked demise. I’m horrified, not just for myself, but for these kids. I’m scared for this town. For the people standing in this room. For JB. For Veronica. For Sabrina. And I still don’t know who had the spell to release him. Who let him out? Who could allow for this bloodshed? WHO?

A laugh echoes in the room, now standing still. FP, Gladys, and Hiram are still glued to the TV, completely frozen. But in the corner of my eye, something moves. Someone is sitting on that couch, moving his head to look at me. 

No….no, I’m hallucinating. He’s not here. He couldn’t have made his way into the Jones’s trailer without Hiram or me picking up on the bad aura. Or the lack of one. This isn’t real, Alice. Snap out of it….

“You should have killed me when you had the chance.” he snickers. He points at the TV, “Maybe these little brats could still be walking the earth. All of them…..even Hermione Gomez. Penelope Blossom.”

I grip onto the rim of the table for dear life. I have to stay in control. “Get out of my head, Hal.”

“That’s not going to stop me.” he stands up, and the trailer feels so much smaller. He makes himself appear taller, more invasive. I watch his head tilt towards Hiram and the Joneses. “You know you’re making a mistake by latching onto them. It’ll only be a matter of time before they swallow you whole.”

My heart trembles. I know he’s attempting to manipulate me, but the words still sting. He calls out my reasons for running away. That if I settle down, that if I let down my guard, I’ll die. But Hal made me like that. He poisoned my outlook on society.

I fire back with a weak voice, “But isn’t that what you did to me? What you’re doing to your new witch?” His head straightens. His lips form a neutral line. For as bright as his eyes are, the complexion of his eyes look sunken into his face. Like he’s a walking skeleton, a parasite needing fresh meat.

He takes one step towards me, then another, and another. I’m unable to move, like I’m trapped in a state of sleep paralysis. I need to wake up. I need to say something. “Go back to which you came.” my voice booms. He doesn’t listen, he just keeps marching over to me. I wish I could fire out a spell to get rid of him, to banish his presence for good. But my brain won’t search for the proper incantations. It refuses to function. The closer he comes, the more my tattoo aches. The more my legs go numb. The more helpless I am.

“Go back to your witch, Hal. You don’t need me!” I yell, as if I’m pleading for my life. He’s inches away from me now, even if I’m trapped in a terrible hallucination. I can smell him. Everything about him causes agony.

“LEAVE ME ALONE!” I scream.

He stops, just centimeters from my face. He towers over me, glaring down with those damn eyes. His hand raises only up to my hip. It hovers by my tattoo. The skin under the handprint he left splits open. Raw flesh rubs together, it bubbles and bleeds.

I begin to tear up. “What do you want from me, Hal?” I grit through my teeth in order to hold back any form of crying. “Is your new witch not good enough for you?”

He grins. A chuckle ripples out of him. He leans close. He reeks of blood and pinewood. And for some reason….he smells of a feline.

His eyes meet my own, shining as bright as the first time I saw them. It was ignorant admiration back then. With that soothing, yet sickly voice, he hums, “It’s nothing to do with being good enough, Alice. She’s just……” He pauses, then he peels back his lips to give me a full smile, daggers for teeth and all.

“She isn’t you.”

The hand grabs where he left the handprint. It burns. I scream. My leg loses all sense of feeling. I lose my balance. I fall to the floor, sending another wave of pain to my thigh. I reach out to my tattoo. My mouth hangs. A trickle of blue, black, purple, and red substance leaks through the fabric of my dress. It stains the floor. 

My Serpent tattoo is bleeding. Hal broke it.

I go to scream, but I twist my head to find JB looking at me in horror. A hand flies to my mouth. I look away from the girl, glaring at nothing. Tears roll down my cheeks. No….no, she can’t see me like this. I don’t want her to be scared. Not because of me. 

“Alice, what the hell? Are you okay?” Gladys rushes over to me. She bends down and takes one look at my leg. It feels like lead and I can’t move. I really lost my Serpent tattoo. It’s destroyed. It’s strange to think that I once sought to remove it. I hated it because I hated where it came from. But while I view it as a painful memory of my past, it’s still my past. This tattoo is part of my history. And now it’s nothing but nasty scars and spilled ink.

Gladys eyes the dark ink then glances back at my leg. It doesn’t take her long to put the pieces together. “Oh, Jesus.”

JB shakes when she comes over to witness my injury. Her eyes water, and I have to bite my tongue so I don’t send her away with a spell. This poor girl has gone through enough, with bullying, and getting her period, and fretting a future where she joins the Serpents against her will. And now this….watching someone she’s grown close to be injured. 

This is why I’m scared to attach myself to anyone. This is why I’ve stayed away from society up until now. Everyone I…..care about gets hurt, or they have to watch me get hurt. I’d rather bear the pain by myself than drag the world into the consequences of my actions.

My hand comes off of my mouth. I stare down at my leg, holding back sobs. Jellybean Jones will not go through this. I won’t drag Hiram, or FP, or Gladys into this either. I need to get up, I need to get my act together. I force my hand down to the ground and straighten my arm. I push myself up, carefully pressing down with my toes so I don’t further injure my leg. I grab for the table rim to pull myself upright. The others call for me. They move into the kitchen to see what’s happened. I ignore them and start to hobble into the Jones’s bedroom. But I barely make it a few inches. My thigh’s in too much torment. Jolts of sharpness pierce through the ink of what was my Serpent tattoo. I step out with my bad leg, bad choice. The fiery agony goes down to my knee. My leg gives out. I land back down on the ground with a thump. I let out a wail.

“Jeebs, stay back.” FP drags his daughter away. He sends her to Hiram before he rushes over to me and Gladys. They each take a side and help lift me back up. I lean on my good foot to relieve my thigh. 

Gladys takes the weight of me, moving away from FP. She points at JB and tells him, “You two keep an eye on her. I’ll take care of this.” My back is to the others, but I can hear JB sniffling. Hiram mutters something I can’t make out too well. Normally I would, but my senses have been thrown off with what’s happening to my thigh. I want to know what he’s doing to comfort her. I’m scared to find out what JB will think of me when I emerge back out into the living room. Will she pity me? Will she turn away in disgust? Will she view me as a monster?

We shuffle into the small bathroom. Gladys flicks on the overheard light and drags me over to the toilet. She sits me down on the lid. “Hang tight, witch. We’re gonna get you all cleaned up, okay? Just stay with me.” She leaves my side to dig around through the boxes of supplies under the sink. I gasp and wheeze for air. I feel like my body is on fire. I glare down at my leg, at the newly stained spot of my dress. Well, I can’t continue to not pay attention to this. I’m horrified to think of what waits for me under this fabric, but now, I don’t have many other choices. 

Just as if I’m ripping off a bandaid, I peel off the fabric from my sweaty, wounded skin. 

I open my mouth to scream, but no noise erupts from my throat. I gape in horror at my thigh. From the way it looks, it’s as if the Serpent tattoo has been slashed open. It’s not, but where the ink sat beneath the top layer of my skin has emerged from the surface. Like someone took a knife and traced out the lines of my tattoo. The ink from SIDE drips onto the bathroom floor. Blood comes out of the tail of the snake. The veins that appeared when I first examined it weeks ago have spread throughout my thigh, going down to my kneecap. And the handprint. The one physical mark Hal left on me is glowing. Just as it did when I saw Chuck Clayton. But this time….it’s bubbling, it’s raw, it hurts.

I kind of wish Hiram was in the room with me right now doing Blue. I can picture my leg healing up in a matter of seconds with just one song, with his voice murmuring that lullaby. He said he hasn’t recharged it around anyone besides me. He probably only uses it on me, and formerly for Veronica and himself. Would I be able to do it on myself? Could I? _Come on, Alice, think. Recall the spell._ The sharpness radiating from my thigh pollutes my brain activity. But I have to do this for myself. For him. 

I hover a hand over the injured area, I think of a quick song that could match the mood. All I have in my head is disco music, but you know what? It’ll have to do for now. I try to pull from my memory the words he mutters, the rhythm of his chanting. I admit, my Spanish is more conversational than it is fluent, and he’s only performed the spell on me twice, but I’m doing the best I can. My focus falls superior to my thigh’s painful and dominating presence. More tears leave my eyes. Why am I not strong enough? Why can’t I fight this?

“Hey, breathe.” Gladys returns with her medical supplies. She rifles through it all and eventually grabs for a damp towel. She takes one of my hands. “I’m gonna try and clean this up. It’s gonna hurt like hell, but just try to stay calm. Squeeze my hand if you need to.” With teary eyes, I nod. I look up at the ceiling, not wanting to give any more attention to the monstrosity on my body. 

The damp towel makes contact with the raw flesh. I squirm and let out a wail. My nails dig into Gladys’s hand. I squeeze my eyes shut and grind my teeth together. Well, what did I think was going to happen? She did warn me. I lower my head back down and try to breathe. The air entering my lungs is cold, it stings. 

Gladys presses the towel onto the wounded area, holding it there. “This doesn’t make any sense. How could this burst open? You didn’t even do anything!”

The handprint etches more into my flesh. I can feel his hand hovering over that area, even though it’s Gladys. I feel his hands over me. Clinging to my brain. Digging in and not letting me go.

I start to sob. Gladys eases her pressure on the towel, she runs her thumb across my hand. She asks what’s wrong. Oh, what could I tell her that she wouldn’t already know? I dragged her into this. I dragged the whole Jones Family down the rabbit hole with me, and now they won’t get out. All because he won’t go away. He won’t leave me alone.

**_She isn’t you._ **

“What?” Gladys’s voice rings me back to reality. I realize that my throat is dry, my tongue is still vibrating from what just came out of my mouth. What he told me before my tattoo broke. I guess there’s no point in hiding from it now.

My eyes produce more tears. I prepare for what I must confess. “He said that to me. About his new witch.” I pause for a second to swallow the lump in my throat. The saliva brings some moisture to my dried out vocal chords. I sniffle, “For whatever reason….his new witch is not like me. That who he works with now cannot….be what he wants. Not the way I was.” Speaking the fears into existence makes the meaning more significant. It sheds light on a truth I need to face. He stalked me that night at the trailer. He played tricks on me at the pep rally. And now he took away an element of my past. Was he this way with the witches before me? What have I done so strikingly different from the others? Why me?

Because I lived. Because I saw him for what he was and dodged the bullet. Because I beat him at his own game. I chose life, and now he’s brought about a new age of chaos to take it out on me. And everyone I’ve grown close to.

Maybe he was right. I should have killed him instead of bounding him to that damn house.

That doesn’t mean I still can’t make things right. I can still save the Joneses from enduring Hal’s deadly touch. I still can protect Hiram and Veronica from backlash against the Church for allying with me. I can still help Sabrina.

I hunch down, taking both of Gladys’s hands. My arms shake, but I have to act strong. “Promise me something,” I plead in a soft voice. I glance around the bathroom, out towards the bedroom, before looking back at her. “Promise me you’ll get out of this trailer park. Just take FP and your kids, and go. Leave Riverdale.”

“Alice….” Gladys starts trembling. She tries to ask what’s wrong, but I keep on rambling.

“Or got to that house you told me about, the one next door to Fred Andrews on Elm Street. The white house with a red door. Get the money and buy that place. You all deserve it. And when Jughead and Jellybean graduate from school, travel the world with FP. Spoil one another.”

She sits upright on her knees. She brings her hands to my face, cupping it softly. I can see the newly formed tear stains on her cheeks. “Hey, look at me, witch. Nothing’s going to happen to us, if that’s what you’re scared of. That prick won’t lay a finger on me or FP, or the kids.” 

My mind races. But what if he does? What if I can’t save them? It’s too early, and too dark, to contemplate, but I have to play out the worst case scenarios. I’ve always been good at that. Another question comes to me. If something happens, and if I can’t do anything, who would they turn to? The other parents FP and I went to school with? Tom Keller? The Serpents?

No….they wouldn’t care. I’ve seen how they snicker behind the Jones’s backs, calling them traitors. I’ve experienced the glares and trash-talking my whole life. But I got out of it. The Joneses haven’t. Gladys still bears that tattoo on her wrist. JB questions whether joining will grant her immunity from bullying. 

I don’t want to think of that. I don’t want to imagine a life where FP and Gladys’s children become members of a warped gang that was intended to be a coven protecting Native American witches. 

It’s wrong. I can’t watch it crumble from the sidelines anymore. 

The tattoo may be gone, but no matter how far I’ve gone, no matter how I try to build a new life for myself….I’m still a Southsider. Whether Hal acknowledges it or not. Whether the Serpents ever go back to its native roots, or if they continue to form into a stereotype out of Hollywood.

I am the witch daughter of a snake. And snakes don’t shed their skin so easily.

I glance back down at my leg. All of the ink has either gone to the bathroom floor or seeped into the moist towel. All that remains is an outline of where the ink once sat, all red and irritated. Memories of my teenage self embarrassed to bring it up during conversation. Of shame knowing why I had it placed there. Of when Hal sought to remove it.

I place my hand gingerly near the area. “Well, Hal….you won.” I spit out. “You finally got rid of the damn thing.”

Gladys raises her brow. A smile breaks out on my face. I laugh in between sobs. She starts laughing too. “No offense, witch, but you’re better off without it.” She lets go of my face so she can clean up the remainder of the wounded area. “Look, I know I got a sworn duty to uphold the Uktena name, but….” she sighs, “The only people I remotely give a shit about are the people who live in this trailer. And you. And…..sometimes, Lodge. Depends on my mood.” Noise comes out of my throat, sounding like a giggle. It’s comforting to hear my own laughter. It takes away any focus of my pain. 

I watch as Gladys sets the towel down on the sink. “You want any pain meds? Herbal remedies? I can get one of them out there to grab something from your trailer.” I sit on the offer for a moment, then I nod my head. She jogs out of the bathroom to wrangle a warm body, all before I can tell her “thank you”. The bleak sunlight from outside seeps into the bedroom. The light above me hums. Everything stands so perfectly still. But my mind still runs at a hundred miles an hour. I think about the recent events of my life. I wonder what could have become of the past 25 years if I had just killed Hal. If I had tried to get to know Hiram better. If I never met Sabrina. Would she still be sent to Riverdale for defying a path laid out for her? No, she would still go on trial. She would still have her name in that Book, along with mine. 

And I still haven’t told her a single thing about it.

My thigh aches again. I wince and grit my teeth. Okay, so it flares up when I think of unhappy things. Why does that sound like it belongs in a children’s book? Ha, because it probably does somewhere. _Alright then, Alice. Don’t focus on the pain, or any other negative elements of your life. Just like that fairy boy in the green leotard. Think happy thoughts_.

Gladys returns to the little bathroom, carrying a load of my potion jars. Hot Dog trails in behind her. I almost giggle out loud when he comes towards me. I run my fingers through his hair. “We didn’t know which ones would work the best, so we just grabbed all of them. Oh yeah,” she gestures down to the dog, “and I guess you also needed fuzz therapy.” I could laugh, it’s a sweet gesture. I stop petting Hot Dog for a second so I can examine the labels as she sets them down in the sink. I spot a jar of fresh aloe vera. I can at least use that to heal the burn mark and to keep the wound from getting infected. I tell her to grab that one. She hands me the jar. Hot Dog stares at me while I begin to apply the remedy onto the area, my skin starts to cool at its presence. 

“Here, start with a couple tablets of ibuprofen. It’ll help reduce the swelling.” Gladys hands me a cold bottle of water and drops two pills onto the palm of my hand. I hate to admit it, but right now, I’m thankful for mortal medicine. I do as she asked, and I swallow down the pills.

“Thanks.” I mutter. “I mean it. You and FP have done too much for me already. I don’t deserve to be your friend.”

“Don’t sweat it.” she playfully scoffs. She rambles on as she begins to search for bandages. “I’d take you any day over the other assholes in the Serpents. Misogyny dies hard in a gang like that.” She pauses to look up at me and winks. I grin at her expression. It’s nice to know that someone else shares my views of how warped the Serpents have become. 

Gladys begins to wrap up my thigh. Through the process, Hot Dog remains close by for me to pet him. “So, is this the first time your tattoo went all haywire?” I only now remember that I haven’t disclosed to her, or FP, about my tattoo burning up around Chuck Clayton. 

I shake my head. “The only other time it happened was when…..” I stop, thinking about how I will spin this tale. No, I need to be honest. No more secrets, no more lies. I sigh, “When Hiram and I broke into the morgue downtown.”

She pauses her work. She stares at me speechless, wide eyes and all. “You broke into the morgue?” I don’t say anything, I just sit on top of this toilet and smirk. I wait for her to criticize me, to call me a reckless criminal. But instead, she exclaims in giddy, “Okay, that is awesome! I mean, you going to the morgue. Not the tattoo incident. Sorry.”

I smile. “Trust me. This hurts much worse.” Gladys returns to bandaging the wound. A little pulse of unease runs through me, but talking with her helps to distract me. I just need to stay in this state, just until the ibuprofen kicks in. _Come on, Alice, think. What can you strike up a conversation about? What do you want to learn more about Gladys? Her wedding day with FP? Where she attended school? How she felt when she first laid eyes on her children?_

Before I think any further on it, the question rolls off my tongue. “Was giving birth to Jughead and Jellybean this painful?” She slows down her work, contemplating over my question. Oh no, is she wondering how stupid I am? Of course, I know that pain shooting out of my thigh is nowhere near pushing a seven to eight pound tiny human out of you. But if I seriously am reconsidering my whole outlook on the “starting a family of my own” business….

Gladys sits back on her heels. She wipes some sweat away from her cheek. Her fingers tap on her black jeans. Then, with a nervous grin, she speaks. “It’s different. It’s a bitch, but….on a different playing field. More elements to it.” She begins to exaggerate with one hand while she continues her mending, “Like, you got back pain, morning sickness, weird food cravings. And when you finally go into labor, this little tiny version of yourself that you made a home for inside you for months, demands for release. Both kids did it, but it was a little easier with JB.”

“How so?”

“She was actually born in the hospital. We never made it in time with Jughead. That boy wanted out of me, and he wasn’t gonna wait for his father to call an ambulance.” she confesses all while chuckling. She leans back and points towards the wall, I’m guessing where the rest of the trailer lays out. “Gave birth to him right in that living room. No pain meds. No midwives. Just me and FP winging it.” She pauses, I see her eyes get watery. She bites the inside of her cheeks. “But I knew the moment I saw his little face, and when I saw hers…..I knew it was worth it. Bringing those kids into the world was one of the best decisions of my life. And I’m lucky FP was there throughout the whole damn thing.” A tear forms, running down her face. She wipes it away. “At first, I didn’t want to consider settling down and forming a family when I first came out here. I didn’t imagine myself with anyone of those scumbags. I was about ready to give it all up and go home.

“And then he showed up. He actually made me feel included, in ways that I don’t think I ever did within the Uktena, or my own family. He cares. He’s willing to try.” Hearing the words come out of her mouth reminds me so much of why I care for FP. Even if we never had any romantic or sexual connection, we still accepted one another as family. He was willing to do the right thing, whether or not it would kill him.

She glances up at me, wiping away more tears. She removes her hands from my thigh. “There ya go. All patched up.” I admire her work, you can barely see the wetness of my bruises and burns. The sprawled out dark veins are hidden under the fabric of this bandage. I’ll have to face this body part down the road, but for now, it’s nice not having to look at it.

“I owe you, Gladys. Big time.” I beam. 

“Oh, shush.” she teases, rising up from the floor. She holds out her hand so I can take it. I wince a bit at the upward motion, but after a couple of seconds, I can stay balanced on both feet. I bump my forehead against hers. “I think you looking after JB so much is enough to repay us.”

I blush. “Okay, fair enough. But seriously, I can do more….”

Gladys gives my hands a gentle squeeze. “Trust me, witch. You and Sabrina have already helped out tremendously with the kids. Jughead actually has a friend to share his passions with, and JB…..she’s come out of her shell and been more vocal since you arrived. You’ve been a good influence for my daughter.” 

I fight to keep my emotions under control. Me? A good influence for JB? It really doesn't make sense. I led FP to a near death sentence. I took their daughter to an abandoned house of horrors. I dragged the Jones Family into my mess. And JB still sees me as a beacon of light? I don’t see myself as a hero, or a savior. I don’t want to be worshipped like a goddess. I don’t want people to idolize me. But having people who genuinely care, who can relate to my struggles, who can see my flaws and accept me all the same….. that would be nice. It makes me feel a little less lonely.

I grin at Gladys. “I see a lot of myself in her. As I did with Sabrina. I just want to do right by the girl.”

“You are, and it shows.” she admits. To be honest, I’m thankful she got me through the past few minutes. This back and forth between us of exchanging life stories has kept my mind off my leg. Now, the swelling is reducing, and the excruciating sensation is mellowing out. If it had been Hilda or Zelda, or heaven, even Ambrose, mending my wounds, I would have come out miserable. I would have felt guilt-tripped or gaslighted. But Gladys tended to me with open arms. The whole Jones Family has coddled me and Sabrina with every ounce of love and friendship they can provide. Whoever ignited the idea that witches and mortals could never get along seriously must have never enjoyed life.

“I’m not kidding. I don’t think JB’s gotten that close to anyone looking after her since….” Gladys pauses mid-thought. She eases her grip on my hands, dangling one hand to her side. I don’t want to intrude and read her mind, but her suddenly ending her sentence without giving the details is making me curious. Who looked after Jellybean before I showed up?

Moments pass. Then, Gladys looks straight at me. 

“Toni.”

She lets me go. I stand in the bathroom confused. Who is this Toni girl? How would Gladys know her? I stumble out of the bathroom, bracing the rim of the sink as I limp out to the bedroom. Hot Dog sticks by my side with every move. Gladys is pacing back and forth in front of the bed, deep in thought.

I grip the door frame. I’m getting worried, she hasn’t spoken to me in a solid minute. “Gladys, who’s Toni?”

“How did I not recommend her before? She could have helped….” she mutters to herself, almost like she never heard me.

I repeat, raising my voice, “Who the hell is Toni?”

Gladys brings her wandering gaze to me. She hurries over to me, placing one hand on my shoulder. She looks out of breath for no reason. “You remember that story I told you about? The man who founded what turned into the Serpents?” It’s been a while since Gladys admitted her ties to the Serpents. I stare down at the Ouroboros tattoo on her wrist.

The Uktena….who came to Riverdale to start another faction? What was that man’s name? How does this Toni person connect to the….

My brain feeds the answer to my mouth. “Thomas Topaz.” Gladys nods in confirmation. Finally, I connect the dots. “Toni’s his daughter?”

“Grand-daughter.” she corrects me. “There was this group of younger Serpents she hung out with a few years ago, Jughead practically glued himself to them. She looked after Jellybean in her spare time. Now, she runs a shop in the middle of the Southside. Family heirloom.” Gladys releases me and begins to head out of the bedroom. She rambles, “God, I’m an idiot! I should have had you two meet sooner. But she can help….”

“Wait, Gladys,” I interrupt, “I still don’t understand! Why Toni? What can this girl do?”

“You still want to learn about this Louis Cooper guy?” The name still looms over me like a bad omen. I can feel Hal waiting to imprint another burn mark on me. I force myself to breathe. No….he’s not here. You’re safe. You can do this. I swallow a lump of saliva and nod. Gladys perks up. “That’s where Toni would come in.”

Before I can get more information, Gladys flees the bedroom. I remain by the doorway of the bathroom for another lingering moment, then I hobble closer to the bed. Hot Dog hurries past me and leaps onto the bed. He settles himself down as I use the mattress for support. I need a second to calm my leg back down. I need time to process what I just heard. There’s another member of the Uktena on the Southside. So, what would that make Toni? Another witch? A seer? Have I even seen this girl around? I’ve passed too many faces in this town, too many I want to block out of my memory. But now, I need to recall them. I need to…..

An image comes to my head. The pink-haired girl. She watched me leave this morning. I think I spotted her at Midge Klump’s funeral. Wait….could that be Toni? Why now has she come out of the shadows? What is suddenly bringing her path to cross mine? Unless she…..unless she’s seen him….

“Alice?” I glance up from my fazed out state towards the bedroom entryway. Hot Dog perches up a bit at the new presence. Hiram hesitates for a second before he rushes over to me. He’s on edge, I can sense it the closer he gets to me, but I think he’s somewhat relieved to see me up and walking about. And I’m relieved to see him here. I take baby steps into him as we collide into each other’s embrace. My nose taps the edge of his shoulder blade. His fingers weave their way into my hair. I keep my eyes shut when I tap my forehead against his. Cool skin lowers my body temperature. Fingertips dance down my jawline. All I see in the dark of my eyelids is blue.

I hear him struggle with his sentence. “Is your leg….do you need me to…..” He doesn’t finish. I don’t need him to. I know. Do I need Blue? Maybe? Common sense says, _I can live. I can go on with my day. I can try and perform Blue on my own._ But a new voice, one echoing from my heart, replies, _Do it, Hiram. I want you to heal me. I want your witchcraft to cure my wounds. I want your soothing voice to be the only voice haunting me. I want you to take my pain away. I want you to make my past disappear. I want to go numb, and to only feel you._

I flutter my eyes open, mostly in shock of what emotions just rose out of me. What my heart seems to interpret of him. When did I start thinking like this? How long has my heart been waiting all these years to make itself heard?

“I’m okay for now.” I end up telling him, silencing my heart. I move my hands up to grab onto his face. “But I appreciate the offer. As always.” His expression lightens. His lips curl upward. Our foreheads come more together. I rest my hands on his shoulders, I feel his blood pulse. It’s quiet. It’s easy. Nothing else matters.

“Here’s the address to her shop….” I look away from Hiram in time to find Gladys storming back into the room, wielding a business card in her hand. She stops mid sentence, frozen with a wide-eye glance. Her eyes dart back and forth between the two of us. Her lips remain shut in a straight line. I watch as her mouth breaks open, her jaw bobbing up and down all tightly. She closes her eyes, using the card to point at us. “Did…..I just interrupt something?”

“NO.” Hiram and I both announce at the same time. Realizing our actions, we exchange a quick glance, then we both turn to Gladys. She’s blinking fiercely at me. I turn back to Hiram. I lift a finger, signaling for him to wait. I hobble in Gladys’s direction, reaching for the business card. I run my fingers along the smooth cardstock when I glance down at the name.

I’ve been in this shop. I bought my first set of books on witchcraft from here, as well as my first tarot card pack and a small pouch of crystals. It all came out of this shop. All the times I went in, every purchase I made…..it went to the Topaz Family. It’s connected to the Uktena. And I never knew.

“Is the shop still open?”

“Closes around 5, I think.” she says while crossing her arms. I bring the card to Hiram. I ask him to check the time. It’s still light out, but we need to be cautious. We already lost most of our morning with Joseph. We spent the past hour or two researching with the Joneses. And who knows how long it took for Gladys to mend my injury. By the look of the sky, I’d say it’s about 4 or 4:30. Is it already that late? And….shouldn’t Sabrina be coming back home by now? FP said something about her and Jughead going to the library earlier. I swear, they’ve been sneaking off just as much as I have with Hiram and the Joneses. What purpose does she have to go around town for? Unless she’s hiding something from me….

Hiram taps my shoulder. “We have time, but we should move now before it’s too late.” Blood pulses through my ears. My heart weighs down my chest. Should I have found Toni sooner? Should I have approached her this morning? What will we say to one another? The sky is turning a darker grey. The light of the bedroom is dimming. Hiram and I really need to get a move on.

I ignore my thigh’s plea for mercy, and I nod at him. “Alright. Let’s go get our girl.”

XXXXXXXX

**TONI**

The spirits better be right. Normally, I close the shop a few minutes before 5, just so I can set everything back in order, perform my closing spells, and run through the accounting figures. But the spirits told me to stay open. They tell me someone is coming at 4:49. It’s beyond my time. I usually shut down around 4:30, but not tonight. Someone is coming.

I run through the numbers in the little office behind the counter. I impatiently glance back and forth through my work and at the clock. 4:46. I dreamt of that man again last night. My last connection to the other world still left me on edge. I saw the Reaper. I saw who he has manipulated and who is trying to run from him. I saw the woman screaming for answers. The blonde color of her hair isn’t as glistening or as fresh from how she appeared in my ritual. But she’s the one the spirits want me to stay open for.

4:47. I saw a girl too. She’s hanging around with Jughead now. I’m glad he’s got friends again. My crew took him in when no one else wanted to play with him. His parents are good people too. His mother is like me, bound to an oath that is dying. She doesn’t want anything to do with the Serpents, neither does her husband. I don’t blame them. I want out too. But it’s not easy for people like me. I don’t have the privilege to run away and start over. Sweet Pea, Fangs, and Joaquin could. But not me. They’re my friends, but they’ll never know what it’s like to live in my world.

4:48. My skin itches. My heart pounds. Any second, she’ll be here. Just like the spirits said. I run through the scenarios in my head. What will she ask of me? What if I refuse? What will happen if the Reaper continues to run loose? Regardless, I’m willing to help, only if I don’t get trapped and find myself in a Mammy role. I shouldn’t have to do this solely for her. Or for anyone. I should do it for myself. 

The more I think about it, the Reaper does play a role in my history. I may be the only chance she has to stop him. Or it could be the reverse. I don’t know. Sometimes I hate the spirits for not giving me a full answer. What would Granddad think if he heard me cursing out the spirits? He’d probably tell me to play nicer. To not get so judgemental. Well, sorry Granddad. But I’ve done what you said and it hasn’t worked out for me. I’m done playing up to others. If I’m doing this, I’m doing it for me. For the legacy you left behind with me.

4:49.

My heart stops. Everything goes silent. I set my pen down. Okay, spirits, it’s time. Where’s our lady? I release my breath through my teeth. I run my fingers down my hair to comb it out. I let my pink mane rest on my shoulders. Any second now.

The front door chimes. My head lifts. This is it. I get up from my seat and begin to make my way out. I stop at the doorway, out of view from the shop. I have to calm my heart down. What if this doesn’t go well? What if the spirits led me wrong? I bless my Granddad from the grave. Outside my office, footsteps wandering through my shop. Another set of footsteps enters, heavier than the first. “Hello?” one vocalizes. Her. I breathe in, breathe out.

“Antoinette Topaz?” the other says, a male. I freeze. He said my given name. No one has called me Antoinette in years. How would he….

Okay, I guess there’s no use hiding. I take one more breath, then I leave the comforting solitude of my office.

The blonde from my visions, the one from the trailer parks, meets my gaze. Next to her, a rich man with dark hair glares softly. I don’t say this out loud, but they look like a married couple. But she’s here. She’s about to do what the spirits predicted.

“You’re speaking to her.” I salute to them, flicking two of my fingers down from my eyebrow. Relieved, the blonde steps away from her dark-haired significant other (is it wise for me to assume they’re together?). She comes closer to the counter. I place my hands down, solidifying the barrier between us. She doesn’t look manipulative, but I should keep my guard up. She’s been around the Reaper. Who knows what influence he held over her. 

“I hope we’re not bugging you at a bad time…” she starts.

I hold a hand up. “You’re all good. The spirits told me you were here to see me anyway.” Her cautious expression is traded in for an amazed one. The dark-haired man shoots her a worried glance. I send my eyes over to him. I still don’t know how he had the audacity to use my given name.

“The spirits?” he says. I nod. I use a finger to draw a circle up in the air. His face goes flat, like he’s been defeated in some Socratic debate battle. I could laugh, but I need to stay focused. I return to the blonde.

“You obviously came to me for something important. Beyond what I’m selling on those shelves. You need my magic.” The blonde goes to speak, but her mouth gapes open and shut. Eventually, she gives up and closes her mouth. It’s not my intention to intimidate her. I do want her to trust me. But more than anything, I need to trust her.

“Gladys said you could…” I feel my eyeballs snap open. She knows Gladys Jones? Okay, why am I acting surprised? Her boy is running around with that girl. I’ve walked by Pop’s and seen them working together. But Gladys must have told her about me. About my lineage to the Uktena. About what I can do.

I rest my elbows down on the countertop, my fingertips drumming the surface. “This involves the Reaper, I’m assuming?” I ask with my head tilted to the side. They both look at one another, shocked that I brought up the name. But that’s why they came to me, right? She nods at him to confirm that yes, I did mean the Riverdale Reaper. I appreciate this woman’s confidence.

The man leaves his place to stand closer to her. “More along the lines of….someone he may have hurt.” 

Ahh, I get it now. I push off of my elbows, standing up straighter. I come up with a mental list of rituals I could perform, tools and herbs I would need, how dangerously wrong it could go if one of us messed up. But I’m jumping to conclusions here. Before I settle into any sort of detail, I need the specifics.

I rest my hands on my hips, my confidence growing. I look them both in the eye, “Alright. Who am I getting into contact with?”

XXXXXXXX

**_End of Chapter Two_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The stakes are building. What will happen next?
> 
> How are we liking the duology idea so far fam? I'm happy to have expanded the story for everyone! Let me know what you would like to see!
> 
> Stay tuned! And stay safe!


	4. Coward's Way Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi pals! Happy Saturday!
> 
> I apologize for the hella long delay, but I finally have a new chapter put together for your reading pleasure! Just a quick note of caution, there are parts where suicide is brought up, and where racial issues are discussed. If these make you uncomfortable, or if you feel I have not accurately reflected on these matters, please let me know.
> 
> Alrighty, I hope you enjoy the chapter, and as always, let me know if there's anything you would like to see coming up! Thanks, and happy reading!

*****WARNING this chapter contains material related to suicide and racial issues. If this makes you uncomfortable, skip to the end of the chapter or feel free to not continue. If you or an acquaintance is dealing with suicidal thoughts, or if you are struggling with current events, please reach out to someone or message me. I will listen and continue to fight for good to the best of my ability. Thank you, and happy reading.*****

**SABRINA**

I spend most of the car ride back to Riverdale asleep. My head still feels woozy from that memory connection with Rose Blossom. My hands, while they don’t look it, still feel burned. My mind jumps from reality to the fire, to blood and red hair, to that boy. Or something looking like a human boy. And in between it all, the one name clings to my brain. Hal Cooper. How would Ali know him? Would it be wrong of me to bring it up in conversation, or would I further send her into depression? Or fear?

The toggling of nightmares stirs me awake, at least I think. No, my mind has settled, but Jughead just ran over a twig on the highway. I blink, taking time to reabsorb my surroundings. I look out the window. We’re 15 miles away from town. Even more away from home. From what I consider normal.

What will become of Rose following our meeting? Part of me fears that the Sisters will relocate her to a new ward, or that she will get sick, or Joaquin will lose his position because of us. I hope nothing bad happens to Joaquin. He’s a good man. He tended to me when he finished with Rose. He looked after Jughead in his childhood. If for whatever reason Salem strikes again…. I’d do anything to keep Joaquin alive. And Rose for that matter.

But I can’t guarantee anything anymore now that Salem’s behavior has gone beyond my control. He gave me that seizure, he murdered Midge, and Chuck, and probably dozens more before my time. And who knows how he’s behaving around V…. V. She’s watching over him, why do I only now remember her generosity? I’m a horrible friend! I’ve spent so much time helping Jughead with the article that I neglected to check on V! My senses come fully alive. I reach down for my backpack on the truck’s floor, scrambling to search for my phone. It’s not in there, I’m beginning to panic. Then, I realize….it’s in the pocket of my coat. I sigh in relief, resting back against the passenger's seat. I take my phone out and begin texting to V right away.

**_Any updates on Salem?_ **

“Your aunt text you or something?” Jughead breaks up my train of thought? “I didn’t hear your phone go off.”

I let my phone fall into my lap. “Trying to pick V’s ear about Salem. Nothing too important.” I make it sound lighthearted, but this matter is….well, it actually is very important. Salem could run loose and shed blood all over town. And V and I might not have the capability to stop him all by ourselves. It would mean involving Mister Lodge, and perhaps the Church. It would mean involving Ali…. I should probably text her too. I would rather not be badgered with questions on where I was all day. I told her I’d be at the library, and….maybe it could be true when Jughead and I come back to town. I send her an update, omitting our excursion to see Rose Blossom, and I slide my phone back into my pocket. We’re now 9 and a half miles from Riverdale.

“You think Hal Cooper would be related to any of the original families?” I theorize out loud. I shift in my seat so I can face Jughead. “I mean, you have the Blossoms, and, obviously, the Pickens Family. But Cooper….it’s just like you said. It sounds too old school to just magically show up in the 1990s.”

Jughead snorts. “Well, if you haven’t been paying attention, Riverdale is trapped between the 1950s and present day. We all act like we’re living in the nuclear age, but with smart phones and hashtags. But you’re right. Why would someone with a last name Cooper magically show up only when chaos occurs?” I wonder what V would think of the question. Her father may have some insight on the people coming in and out of Riverdale. Perhaps Aunties may have done work in the mortuary for a Cooper family. But out of all these people….Ali would have to know best. Rose’s daughter claimed Ali and this stranger to have dated. I have never heard Ali mention this man when she’s brought up fragments of her past to me. There has to be more beneath the surface, more than what she wants me to find out.

“Maybe he’s connected to the supernatural.” I state. “Or he’s like me, and Ali.”

“A witch?” I nod my head in confirmation. Jughead rolls his eyes. “That’d be the least surprising of our options.” I chuckle at the comment, but my mind runs through more possibilities. What would be more surprising than this Hal Cooper being a witch, or just heavily into the supernatural? A secret council member of the Church? An underling for the Dark Lord?

A demon?

The thought makes my stomach churn. I brace myself against the dashboard to keep myself from hurling in the Jones’s truck. I take deep breaths, squeezing my eyes shut to stop the dizziness. Jughead lowers the speed. “Woah. You okay? You need me to pull over?” One last deep breath, and I wave him off. I tell him I’m fine, that I can make it back to town without having to pull over.

“Just got dizzy, that’s all.” I push myself away from the dashboard, letting the seat embrace my back. What would Aunties say if they saw me now? What would Harvey think? No….screw what they think. No one from Greendale has tried to care about my wellbeing. They want me to comply with whatever backwards lifestyle they think will save me. Well, I can save myself. I refused to follow the Path of Night. And I refuse to play a victim, even to my familiar.

“Would food help?” Jughead asks out of nowhere. I open my eyes, darting them straight over to him. He shrugs, “‘Cause I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry, Jughead.” 

“Exactly.” He gives me a coy smile and taps the side of his head with one finger. I can’t help but laugh. And the more that I think on it, I’m quite hungry myself. I did vomit up my breakfast, after all, so I should replenish my energy before digging more into the Reaper, and finding out where this Hal Cooper came from.

We take the exit leading us back into town, and we head straight for Pop’s. We decide to confer over our notes during lunch, that way we can optimize our search at the library. To my surprise, Jughead wants to have the article completed by the end of the week, at the latest. “It could serve as a good source for the police.” he explained to me while still in the truck. “And it could do the school some good to actually learn the town’s history for once instead of a conspiracy theory thread on Twitter.” He has a majority of it outlined, and he claims it shouldn’t take long to put it all down on paper. With Rose’s interview, it will speed up the whole process. We’re about to go in when my phone buzzes. Maybe it’s Ali to ask if I wanted to grab lunch, or maybe it’s Archie how I’m doing. I reach into my pocket.

It’s V! She responded back!

**_All good, ‘Brina! He’s an angel! How are you feeling, btw?_ **

Jughead nudges my shoulder, telling me that he’s going to grab a booth for us. I tell him to go ahead as I type out my response.

**_Feeling much better. You want to try and get together at some point? Jughead and I may have found a breakthrough with the Reaper article! :)_ **

I would wait to see how V would react, to see if I can get her away from Salem for just an afternoon, or an hour. But my stomach’s growling, and I can’t leave Jughead waiting. I shove my phone back into the warmth of my coat and head into the diner. Pop greets me with a cheerful hello, astonished that I’m up and moving again. I guess word must have gone around about my seizure at the protests. Well, why am I surprised? I’m the new girl in a small town, where everyone knows everything about each other. Everything but any ties to the supernatural. I thank Pop and join Jughead at one of the booths down towards the end. I glance around, hoping that Ali may have started working again after such a long absence. None of the waitresses’ faces match hers. They don’t match to Mrs. Jones either. “Day off, apparently.” Jughead mutters when I ask. One waitress comes over, takes our orders, and bounces away. Jughead and I pull out our notebooks and begin our work.

Some of what I wrote down is just key phrases Jughead threw into his notebook. The rest is all sigils I doodled to pass the time, mixed with other odd scriptures. I feel embarrassed to show Jughead, so I just nod my head or shake it when he asks if I caught the same details as him. I study the scriptures on my page, tapping on the table with my pen. They’re all from my spellbooks Aunties forced me to memorize as a child. None of it made sense to me, no matter how many times I had to scribe them over and over in my grimoire. Back then, I assumed that I would just learn it when I had the chance to attend the Academy of the Unseen Arts. Now….I don’t really know if I want to attend that school, regardless if my father studied there.

My fingers follow the lines and shapes throughout the page, wishing that these confusing symbols will lead me in the right direction. A clue Jughead and I are missing. The real reason I saw my parents’ ghosts at my Baptism. The unspoken truth of Ali’s past. Anything. 

“Are you purposefully trying to hypnotize yourself?” Jughead teases. I glance away from my notebook, up to him. Was he watching me? I release my finger from my place on the page. I recoil into the leather seat, muttering for him to shut up. “Here,” Jughead shuts my notebook and slides it off to the side of the table, by the napkin holder. He tells me, “we’ll look over this stuff again after we eat. I swear you looked like you were gonna pass out.”

“You seem to forget I spent half of the week in bed not being able to keep anything down.” I throw back at him, earning an impressed smirk from him. By now, our food has arrived. I’m instantly warmed by one bite of a french fry, I let the salty stick melt in my mouth. I could devour this whole plate in one sitting, but I have to remind myself to take my time. One wrong bite, or one wrong thought, could cause this whole meal to come back up.

Jughead wipes away a dribble of greasy burger from the corner of his lips “Okay, so now that I know you’re a witch, I’ve got a few questions I need to ask.”

I cock my head sideways. What could he possibly want to learn? I realize that he isn’t asking for the sake of asking. He’s doing it to keep my mind off Rose and the Reaper. Off of Hal Cooper. I smile. “Fire away.”

“Are vampires real?” An easy one, huh? I twirl a french fry in my finger.

“Yes. And NO, they do  _ not _ sparkle in the sunlight,  _ nor  _ do they use a little knife on their fingertips to slice people’s throats open. There are some witches who do interact with nearby clans of vampires, but for the most part, we try to steer clear. If a vampire gets ahold of a witch’s blood, it makes them more powerful.” It’s true, supposedly. Auntie Z told me herself. In her younger years, she had to ward off this vampire named Theodore Finch who wanted to seduce her. She punched him and threatened to hex her if he laid eyes on her again. Ambrose cackles everytime she retells the encounter. Hilda only shakes her head.

“What about werewolves?”

“Same deal. We don’t interact with them much, but they do exist. They’re quite a pleasant crowd when it’s not a full moon.” I watch Jughead take another mouthful of his burger. He seems more indulged in that than my answers. I point the french fry at him. “If this is your way of having me go down the list of all the monsters in Hollywood horror films, the joke’s on you. I’m not falling for it.” His eyes widen, he lowers his burger. I take a triumphant bite of my fry.

“But I’ll be nice and let you ask about one more monster.” I state once I finish swallowing. “So….choose wisely.”

Jughead chuckles and wipes his hands down with a napkin. He sits on the offer for a moment, moving the napkin up and down between his palms. I begin to dive into my platter of chicken tenders while I wait.

“Okay, okay…. I got it.” he clears his throat. I take a napkin for myself to remove the grease from my lips. I let the napkin fall into my lap as I let my elbows rest on the table. Jughead gestures with his hands. “Zombies. What’s the scoop on them?”

I’m stumped. Okay, I’m not that stumped. Witches kill one another and bring each other back all the time. I’ve heard stories of Church members experimenting on dead animals from the woods for their rituals. But zombies….that’s another touchy subject.

I craft out my answer for him. “Depends on who or what you’re trying to resurrect. Animals are the living dead. Rotting fur and skin, groan in their howls, you name it. Humans, on the other hand….if it’s a human coming back from the dead, they still hold some form of a conscious. They’re still a corpse, though.”

“So, they’re not on  _ Night of the Living Dead _ level? Damnit.” he snarks, making me laugh. It eases my nervousness, only because the talk of resurrection quietly leaves me unsettled. I’ve never performed a resurrection spell. I had no need to - I live in a mortuary. But sometimes, the thought of performing one, just to see what it’s like, creeps into my brain every once in a while. It did when we all found Midge pinned to the lockers and cut open. It did after Chuck’s corpse was unveiled in the woods.

“But in all seriousness….” he starts up, “Let’s say, if something were to happen to Hot Dog, and if you used a spell to bring him back….he could be a zombie?” My lips close tight. My ears hum. Without a word, I nod. “And if he bit me….”

“It could cause a zombie outbreak, and….overall doom.” I confess with a shrug of my shoulders. My confident streak disappears. I tap on my plate. “That’s one of the reasons why the Church doesn’t really allow witches to conduct that intense of resurrection spells. Unless you’re that desperate and have permission, or….” I huff, “You’re asking for the Church to banish you for life.”

Jughead goes for another bite then stops. His mouth hangs at the last part. I let out a huge sigh. “But to answer your question, the best case for Hot Dog would be that he ends up like that cat in  _ Pet Semetary _ . Which is way easier to manage than a zombie dog. But overall….it’s just like what the book says.”

“ _ Sometimes, dead is better. _ ” Jughead finishes my thought with that quote from the book. A small smile forms on my face. I nod, because, unfortunately, it’s true. Most times, staying dead is better than having to relive all the pain you endured. It’s easier than everyone probing at you, asking what dying felt like, if you would want to go through it again. It resurges too many memories. It causes too much pain. That’s another reason why the Church doesn’t favor resurrection all that much. They’ve been more forgiving of the practice for my generation of witches, but that wasn’t the case for when Aunties or Ambrose began their craft. 

I watch as Jughead rolls his eyes. “Wow, that explanation filled me with such dread, Sabrina. And I just wanted to know if I would get turned into a friggin’ zombie by Hot Dog.” He cracks a smile, and I do too. We end up cackling to the point where our stomachs hurt. It’s a relief to openly talk of my culture and my kind’s history with another person, a mortal. It reminds me that I can have a life without the strictness of the Church, without the weight of my family’s reputation.

We finish our meals and dive back into the note dissection. We go back and forth between the interview details. Should we directly admit that we interviewed Rose and Joaquin, or should we leave them as “anonymous”? Should we obtain pictures from the recent crime scenes? Should we begin the article with our excursion to the Conway House? Jughead mentions the idea, but I tell him to leave that part out. If any word got out to Ali or his parents that we went to a restricted, abandoned house, we’d all be in trouble. Even V. 

By the time it’s 3:30, we begin to gather up our materials. We decide that it would be best to check out some books from the library related to the Blossoms, and any newspaper clippings and articles from the 90s. We figure it’s the best chance to find Hal Cooper and to understand what really happened to cause Thornhill’s destruction. As Jughead is about to slide out of the booth, my phone buzzes. I whip it out to find a new text from V. I open up the message.

**_Sorry for the late response, girl! Wish I could, but I’m trying to catch up on homework :( How about getting breakfast before school on Monday?_ **

Huh. That’s odd. V could simply do her homework with us at the library. What could possibly be holding her back? Salem? Jughead’s starting to slide out of the booth, cuing that it’s time to leave and pay for our meals. I respond back to V, telling her that would be wonderful. Then, I slip my bag over my shoulder and begin to follow Jughead. We each pay for our separate meals with Pop at the cash register, then we depart for the library.

To our surprise, the library is practically deserted when we arrive. I guess people haven’t gone out as much since the murders and all of this unrest. No one really has the guts….well, unless you want to put your lives in the hands of potential danger. Like us. The near-dead vibe gives Jughead and me an advantage. We’re able to slip through section by section, taking what we need and what we haven’t already poured through. For whatever reason, the books on Riverdale’s History in the 50s and 60s are still unavailable. How ironic. This time period is the crucial section of history we need to complete this article, and it’s gone. I wonder who else recently found interest in this subject.

It’s a little after 4:30, and we now have most of what we can get our hands on. Since the library will close around 5, Jughead suggests that we head back to his trailer to jot down notes. I agree, it might be our best option. I don’t want to remain out so late and make Ali panic. Plus….I don’t feel like running into Salem at this hour. If I even see him again.

As we’re about to greet the librarian at the checkout counter, my phone buzzes. Did V text back? I would ignore it until we got back to the truck, but I stop in my place. My phone is still going, buzzing nonstop. A call?

Jughead raises his brow at me. The librarian gives me a dirty look. Quickly, I stack my portion of the books on top of his. “Meet me by the entrance. I have to take this.” I whisper, hoping I don’t irritate the librarian further. I know Greendale has its share of cranky, judgemental librarians, including the ones at Baxter. But, geez! This woman makes ours look somewhat pleasant.

I watch Jughead drop the books onto the counter and make small talk with the librarian. At first I don’t get it, but then I realize he’s giving me a chance to take my call without her judgement. I make a mental note to thank Jughead later. I take no time to bother looking at who’s calling, I just answer it right away.

“Hello?”

“Sabrina.” The other end responds. It’s Ali! “I got your text, sweetheart. Are you doing okay?”

I turn away from Jughead talking with the librarian, plugging one of my ears shut so I can hear Ali better. I begin walking over to the doorway. “Yeah, I’m….I’m okay! Just finishing up at the library with Jughead!”

“Oh, good!” she exclaims all perky. A little too perky, just like me. In the background of her end, I can hear people murmuring. I swear, it almost sounds like Jughead’s parents. And Mister Lodge.

I don’t get a chance to ask where she is, or why she’s with V and Jughead’s parents. “Hey, I wanted to ask you,” she goes on like nothing is wrong, “Would you like to do take-out for dinner tonight? I’m just not really in the mood to cook….”

“That’s good with me!” I interrupt her. “Please, don’t worry about making anything! You’ve done enough for me already, Ali.” My response earns me a little giggle and an expression of her gratitude. The expression gets followed by a wince. A sign of pain.

My finger comes out of my ear. My back straightens. “Ali….are you alright?”

I can hear her grit her teeth over the phone. “I’m alright. Just….just injured my leg. That’s all.” She attempts to come off as passing off the pain, but I hear her grip onto something. She takes a shaky breath. Something’s not right.

“How did you---” I go to ask but I’m cut off. In the background, I hear Mister Lodge speaking to Ali. We have to go, he whispers. She turns away from the speaker, telling him I’m almost done. Where are they heading off to? Where would Ali and Mister Lodge be going at this hour?

She redirects her attention to me. “Listen, honey, I have to get going. Send me what you want for dinner and I’ll bring it back to the trailer. Okay?” I’m getting confused and irritated, and I’m worried about Ali and her leg. I want her to stay at the trailer park so I can help tend to her wound. I want her to never come across paths with Salem.

I want to ask her about Hal Cooper. 

But not here in this library. Not when she’s in a hurry and in pain. I push the question into the back of my brain, leaving it on hold for now. Instead, I say, “Okay. Be safe.”

“Talk to you later, sweetheart!” The phone dies on the other end. I leave my phone hovering by my ear, despite my arm going numb. My lips quiver. My cheeks get heavy. My throat prevents the last thing I wanted to tell her.

_ I love you. _

Jughead comes up behind me and taps me on the shoulder. He’s struggling to keep all the books in his arms, so I slip my phone back into my pocket and relieve him of the load. With my half of the books in my own hold, I sigh. He doesn’t ask how the call went, if I heard anything from his parents or his sister. Instead, he uses his back to push the doors open. I follow him out of the library, my mind still on Ali. Fearing for her life. Fearing for Jughead. And for myself.

“So, we can split up the work between tonight and tomorrow, if you want.” Jughead plots out our schedule as we walk down the library steps. “I know we did a lot today. I don’t want to leave you out of any of the writing process, but I also get if you need a break.” It’s a nice offer, I appreciate the kind gesture. Frankly, I would love to take a break from all this research, all this stressing. But I also need something to distract me from Salem. I need to get my mind off of home. Maybe I can finally take a break when my world is no longer on the brink of imploding.

“How about we take breaks when we need to, getting this article done?” I lift my brows at him. This way, I’m silently cuing him that I’m in this a hundred percent. No matter what the cost. Jughead gives me a flabbergasted look of approval, followed by laughter.

“Damn, you never quit. Do you, Teenage Witch?”

I shrug my shoulders. “What can I say, Jones? I’m a go-getter!” I practically skip down the last of the steps in pure delight. I keep going until I am merely inches away from the truck. 

I stop. My giddy expression falls. The books in my hands almost fall out. Jughead almost collides into me from behind. He asks me what the matter is, at least I think he does. My ears have begun to rung and I can’t make out the exact words leaving his mouth. He must have seen where my eyes have glued themselves to, because now he has his eye on his truck. His sudden panic matches mine. “Oh crap.”

On the windshield, and on the hood, red streaks are painted. No, it looks as if someone dragged red down this poor truck. But is it paint, or blood? The streaks aren’t what leaves us unsettled. Between the streaks of red, a not-so-subtle message awaits us. In blood-colored red, the hood reads **_STOP DIGGING_ ** .

“Well, shit.” Jughead gulps back his pride. “Someone does not clearly want us working on the Reaper case.” He’s gullible if he believes that a random person, whether from the police or from school, demands that we let the Reaper case rest. He probably thinks it could be anyone. 

Not me. From the pattern of the streaks, to the words carved with careful fingers onto the hood, I know this can’t be a random stalker going after us. Visions of Moose getting ripped open and Midge hanging from the lockers wake me up, not in a good way. The message of striking at people who get in the way causes my heart to beat faster.

There’s a reason V took longer than I expected to reply back. Because this message is not from a stalker. 

It’s from Salem.

XXXXXXXX

**ALICE**

It’s throbbing again. I have to not wriggle around in this stupid bed to irritate it. I would, but I don’t want to wake Sabrina up. Something happened to her earlier, she looked so shaken when she came back from her study retreat with Jughead. What happened to her? Okay, I shouldn’t judge her for her silence. I haven’t told her about the tattoo…. 

My thigh cramps at the thought. I grit my teeth in the dark. Using some magic, I flick on my side table lamp. I peel back the comforter to get a better look at my leg. A snake-figure outlined in light pink, where ink once sat beneath my skin, comes to life under the wrapping. His handprint tickles my pelvic bone and the creases of my hips. I bless under my breath. 

I hover my hand over the wounded area, summoning the spell for Blue and wishing I had Hiram next to me. I better do something, because I need all my strength to get through the seance, and to provide Toni Topaz with any assistance. I’m shocked that she even accepted our offer. She took in every detail when Hiram and I laid out the plan to her. That we need Louis Cooper to confirm if he was influenced or possessed by the one we all fear.

My thigh jitters, I bite my lip.  _ Okay, focus on Blue. Speak the words in his voice. Imagine he’s there with you.  _ The fact that I have to baby myself to overcome this pain is quite pathetic. I could heal fine on my own anywhere, so why have my abilities changed here in Riverdale? Because I opened my heart? Because I magically give a rat’s ass about humanity now? Ha! Riverdale never cared for me. No….that’s what Hal made me believe. There are people who did care, and still do. 

_ “You sure you don’t want an ice pack for that thing?” Hermione Gomez gestured at my leg one afternoon, a week before her inevitable possession and car crash. She invited me to her house so I could watch her read off her lines and sing her songs for  _ **Pippin** _. She didn’t want to mingle with the other cast members at the time. And she didn’t want to be around for the rumors spreading about her split with Fred. And I wanted to be nowhere around Hal, so it was fine with me. I agreed to hang out at her place and provide the necessary constructive criticism. Although, I couldn’t move around much, due to Hal almost frying my Serpent tattoo to a crisp.  _

_ “It’s just a pulled muscle. It’ll heal soon.” I lied to her. I never revealed to anyone at that school where my tattoo lived on my body, and I wasn’t all that trusting of Hermione with those details. So when she noticed me limping around, I told her I pulled my muscle during “a morning run”. Like I would ever commit to that level of activity in my life. But Hermione seemed to buy it. _

_ “I swear. I used to get the worst cramps from when I was basing for stunts.” she began as I glanced around her living room. I knew her family was Catholic, and with me being a witch, I worried that walking into her house would wither my soul with religious garments everywhere. But what I saw was….simplicity. It was an ordinary home. I envied that. I continued to look around as I half-listened to her rant, “Lot of up and down motion. Getting smacked in the face when the girls forget to keep their arms pinned. I thought my own arms would fall off from catching them. I don’t think I’ve seen Penelope work that hard during practice, or on the field.” The last part caught my interest. _

_ “So….how exactly does that make her captain material?” I raised a brow, to which she scoffed. _

_ “It never did.” she displayed an angry grin on her face. By that time, I had no clue her rivalry with Penelope Blossom escalated that quickly. But Riverdale was a tiny town, and rumors spread like wildfire. Like uncontained evil. Once one person knew or suspected of your personal hardships, it would take a matter of days before the whole town started asking questions. Penelope snagged her power that way, by holding your life over your head and bending you to her will. In a way, she was no different from Hal. _

_ But I wasn’t there to focus on him, or Penelope. I was there to act like a friend. I watched Hermione flop onto her couch and yank out her script from her backpack. “So….” I stood in the middle of that room awkwardly, “Which part do you need help on? Your lines? One of your solos?” _

_ Hermione huffed, flipping through the pages. “My last solo in Act Two. The one where Catherine sings to the audience about her conflicted feelings for Pippin.” I limped over to where she left open space on the couch, and I sat down next to her as she pointed out the section to me. “For whatever reason, I can’t get the emotions out the way Miss Grundy wants me to do it.” _

_ “Well...how is Catherine supposed to feel? Bittersweet about her relationship? Angry?” _

_ “All of the above, I guess.” I peered down at the script to get a better understanding. In the scene, Catherine is arguing with the Leading Player over what she can and cannot perform on the stage. And although she hated how simple Pippin was, he made Catherine recognize her shitty situation. Catherine’s had enough of the Leading Player and no longer wants to play along with the fake happy life. I had no clue how the rest of the show would turn out, but from this little segment of dialogue and singing….I could relate to her position. _

_ “What kind of emotions do you feel when you sing?” _

_ “That’s the issue. I’m trying to tap into her feelings, but I’m getting nothing. It feels fake.” she grumbled. I knew it wouldn’t be wise for me to bring Hal back into my thoughts, but I could use my own experience to help Hermione connect with Catherine. I could use her experience too. _

_ “How do you view Fred now?” I asked for her input. Hermione just sort of glared up at me for a second, then, seeing where I was taking the conversation, she lost the furiosity. She crumbled the script in her hands, looking mournful. _

_ “I wish I didn’t get so hot-headed with him.” she confessed. “I broke his damn heart, all because I believed he was gonna slow me down. That I would never leave Riverdale if I stuck with him. But….” she paused, taking in a big breath. I could see mist forming in the corners of her eyes. She turned to me, “He was one of the good ones. I’ve never met any guy who showed so much loyalty to me….the way Fred did. I mean, he’s stubborn as shit, but he’s got a good heart. I don’t know if I’ll find anyone like that again.”  _

_ She went quiet after that. I could still feel the pain in her silence. I could read her thoughts. She feared of being lonely. She worried that she would never provide what a partner could want. If only I knew then of her infertility, of the length Hiram goes through now to live out Hermione’s wish and care for Veronica…. _

_ I placed my elbows onto my kneecaps and brought my hands together. I needed to craft out these next words carefully. If anything did go wrong, I would have been prepared to wipe out her memory of this moment all together. But I wasn’t in the damn mood to keep my guard up. I didn’t want to play the frightful witch. I just wanted to be….Alice Smith. _

_ After letting the silence pass for another second, I spoke up. “Sing it about Fred, then.” Hermione went all doe-eyed on me. Before she could protest, I went on. “Your relationship sounds an awful lot like Catherine and Pippin’s time together. That’s all I’m saying. And….look, I know it’s probably not wise to think about him when you gotta focus on getting into college and moving on with life. Trust me, I get it.” I had to slow down, I was starting to ramble. I knew damn well that Hermione would be able to leave Riverdale. So would Hiram. So would Sierra, and Tom, and FP, and everyone else. Not me. I was bound to this place, forever wiping the blood off my hands and letting Hal leech off of my soul. There was no salvation for me. I had no freedom. But Hermione did. She needed to hear that. _

_ “But you can still look back on it and learn from the faults.” I reasoned with her. “Yeah, he did some things you may not have liked, and you had your opinions. But you are allowed to mourn the good parts. You are allowed to grieve over what you lost. Regardless of what gossipers, and….stupid back-stabbing cheerleaders say.” I got a giggle out of that last statement. “All I’m saying is….you’re human for a reason. Tap into the uncomfortable emotions. Let that pour out in your voice. That’s why you’re singing, right?” I ended it there, mostly due to that my conclusion hit me unexpectedly. I would never know what it was like to fully be human. I would still struggle with my emotions and never come head to head with them until my fateful return years later. I may not have believed what came out of my mouth, but I wanted her to believe it. I wanted better for Hermione. For everyone I went to school with. For all of Riverdale. Even if I had my personal vendettas against the town. _

_ Hermione leaned back into the cushions, a smile formed on her face. She no longer looked out of touch with her character. She shot a blissful glance over at me. Then, she was cackling. “Damn. That’s deep, Acid Queen Alice.” _

_ I froze. Anger washed over me. I was half tempted to hex her right there, or to run out the door in tears, back into his arms, begging for him to make her disappear. My fingers curled in. I forced myself to breathe. She didn’t know better. But she knew I hated that name. She knew what the school thought of me. Yet she was trying to be better. She wanted to do better by me. Correct her mistakes. And when she realized her mistake, I was unclenching my fists and glaring down at the ground. “Shit, Alice….I’m sorry.” _

_ “It’s fine.” I muttered. I wanted to shrink myself so small that I could hide in the cushions of the couch. I took another breath, I couldn’t take it out on her. Not when she showed me hospitality and kindness. My thigh flared up again, and it took all of my strength to not scratch at it. I shake my head, ignoring the pain. I came up with words to remove her guilt, “Not the worst thing I’ve been called lately.” _

_ “No. It was a dumb mistake. I should know better.” Suddenly, she took my hand into hers. My arm tensed up. My eyes bulged. It was hard for me to not flinch or to yank my hand away from hers. But I stayed. I stayed and I heard her out. “You’re helping me work on my performance. You….you’re like the only person in school not judging me for breaking up with Fred, or falling out with Penelope. You’re cool, Alice. I kinda enjoy hanging out with you.” My lips were still glued tightly together, but my brain raced. Hermione Gomez thought I was cool? She actually enjoyed my company? Maybe I did spend too much time judging others and not allowing myself to interact with my peers. _

_ “Thanks.” I muttered. After that, we went on and I listened to her singing that song over and over until she could convey the emotions just right. We did that more for a couple of days, when she wasn’t swamped with rehearsals and when I needed time away from my familiar. We did it until the musical, until we were supposed to attend that after-party, until the crash _

The pain rushes up from my leg to my head. I whimper softly, not too loud to wake up Sabrina. Why do my bad memories make my injuries flare up? He bound me to him. He wants me to relive the consequences of my actions. Then why did Sabrina have that seizure? How did Toni know why I was coming to her….

She’s seen Hal. She whispered to me, before Hiram and I departed, that she witnessed my attack in the school. That she predicted what could come next, not just for me but for everyone. For Sabrina.

I glance over at the young girl. She's so peaceful in her sleep. She’s still blissfully unaware of my trauma. I huff, staring up at the ceiling. I wish I could be in her state right now. Well, I should. I need to get some rest before my mind leads me one another edge of another cliff. 

I use some magic to turn off the side lamp. I shut my eyes and keep my attention on my attempt at Blue. It’s getting a little easier to perform, but it’s still not the way Hiram does it. Maybe tomorrow….but I should be fine for now. I need to calm down and sleep in peace. Because come tomorrow, we’ll have answers from Louis Cooper. And I may not like what I hear.

I toss and turn all night. Zelda and Hilda laugh at my failures. Hermione and Penelope stare me down from hidden corners. Hal calls for me, he begs for me to come home, to join him in his seductive nightmare world. I tell him no, and each time he inches closer. And closer. And closer, until I run out of space to flee and I cannot escape from him. By the time it’s about 6 or 7, I get out of bed and make myself some cider. I review the notes I compiled with Hiram and the Joneses, preparing myself for the day ahead. The words blend together on the pages. The one page that matches his glares at me. I have to wonder if Louis had any connection to witchcraft, whether through family, or friends. Or if he dove into dark materials that he never should have found.

Half an hour passes. A draft blows through the trailer as I finish lacing up my boots. My heart’s running at 100 miles an hour. I make the last loop, tying the bunny ears together, then I smooth down my pant legs. I would have worn a dress, but we’re heading out to Pickens Park, and I don’t want to draw attention to my leg. It’s stinging again. I’ll need to reapply some aloe vera when I get back from the seance. Or I could just pop some medication into my system and ride out the numb wave. 

Sabrina stirs in the bed behind me. I stand up and remove my notes from the floor, doing my best to not wake her up. I turn around to get a better look. When will she get called back to Greendale? When will her Aunts reach out? Will they? I set my notes down on the bed, and I come over to her side of the bed. My fingers hover just near her forehead. Something’s troubling her. A nightmare I guess. I hear whispering, a hushed voice.  _ You’ve seen him. You know what he has done.  _ A crackling of a fire. A tear in flesh.  _ Why don’t you ask…. _

She bolts up, eyes wide, heart pounding. She gasps for air. I place my hands on her shoulders. “Hey….breathe, sweetheart. Breathe.” She takes a moment to take in her surroundings, to notice that it’s me comforting her, and not that hushed voice. She exhales in relief and rests her head on my shoulder blade. “You’re safe.” I mutter, flattening down her hair. “You’re safe.”

“I’m alright. Mhm….a bad dream.” I hear her mumble. She clings to the fabric of my shirt. She’s shaking in my arms. What haunted her in her dreams? She rests her cheek against me. “Are you leaving?”

I finally realize that she’s spotted the notes on the bed. My heart drops. What do I tell her? I get up from the bed, letting go of Sabrina. I reach for the notes. “I have to meet up with….some people.” I keep my answer vague. I’m going to kick myself for that later. But Sabrina shouldn’t have to know what I’m doing, it’s too dangerous. If I drag her into this now, I’ll never hear the end of it from Zelda and Hilda. A pit falls into my stomach when I look at her. She’s dazed. She wants the truth.  _ No more secrets, no more lies _ , the little voice in the back of my head taunts me. I should….I need to…. I can’t leave her in the dark. Well….maybe in pieces…..

I huff, flopping down onto the bed, carefully so I don’t injure my thigh. “There’s another witch in town.” I confess to the girl. “We’re meeting up this morning so…”

“Who?” She sounds monotone trying to put the puzzle pieces together. It scares me a little. This whole ordeal of me not telling my story to her scares me.

The possibilities run through my mind. Do I just capitulate and tell her everything before it’s too late? Do I bring her back to Greendale, to the care of the Spellmans, and then tell her? Do I push on, fight this on my own, and if Hal dies, dragging me down with him, would I leave my written history behind…. 

I wince. My thigh cramps up. I unclench my fists, which I didn’t realize I made. I look down….red crescents form on the flesh of my palms. I bite my tongue and force myself to not break down.  _ Stay strong. Toni needs you. Louis Cooper needs you…. _ My thigh itches. I glance down at it, hovering one hand nearby, ready to give in.

“What really happened to your leg, Ali?” I hear Sabrina croak. Cold air stings my face. The raw flesh of my thigh cries to be freed from the fabric of my pants. It hurts. I have to take a minute, I have to calm myself down. I can do it. I can talk to her. I just need to inhale, then exhale. My bottom lip falls victim to my top row of teeth. I let it fall back to its natural state. Hal would be pleased to see me this vulnerable.

My voice crumbles when I speak. “I told you about being in the Serpents when I was younger. Right?” Sabrina leans back against the pillows. Her eyes linger around the room, slowly returning to meet my gaze. She says I did tell her, after Veronica’s assault. She repeats back what I told her - I had to fulfill my father’s legacy because I had no choice.

“Okay, so you know that much.” I nod, confirming her memory. I go on, “But….but I didn’t tell you that….that I have….” I stop, feeling my thigh sting. It’s my brain’s little way of telling me that my tattoo no longer exists. All that’s left is a scar. I correct my own words, with a heaviness in my heart, “ _ Had _ . I  _ had _ a tattoo. Up until yesterday.” She takes time to absorb my words. There’s little to no color on her face. Her lips are chapped. She glances down at my leg. 

“Did it get infected?”

I choke up, unable to speak. Water forms at the crevices of my eyes. My bad leg bounces. My fingers interlace, my nails dig into the flesh between the knuckles. I’m a coward. And a liar. I’m weak. I squeeze my eyes. No, I can’t think like this. Muster up the courage and tell her the truth. Sabrina endures so much strength, much more than I had at her age. She could talk to me. And I should talk to her. The voice I heard…. _ Why don’t you ask _ ….why did it sound like….

Another wave of pain. A tear rolls down my cheek.  _ Why don’t you ask _ ….ask who? Me? About what? I don’t pronounce these fearful questions. I don’t inquire Sabrina about her dream. She wants to know the tale of my tattoo, and that is what I’ll tell her.

“It’s been infected for a while.” I confess, wiping the tear away with the sleeve of my blouse. “I thought by ignoring it, the problem could fade away. But….it got worse.” I keep the answer plain and simple, because I don’t think saying  _ I disassociated and saw my demon-ex-boyfriend, and said hallucination broke my tattoo and severely burned it _ would fly with her. She sits up straighter, watching me in disappointment. I can feel my nose running. I’m too afraid to see if it’s blood. I sniffle away any forming fluids before I continue. “I lost all the ink. It bled everywhere. Don’t get me wrong, I hated getting the damn thing. But…..but it was part of who I was. It was part of my identity.” I end my woeful speech there, not wanting to speak further. More tears form in my eyes. I hate opening up to her about this part of my life, especially this late into our time here in Riverdale. I really am kicking myself for not doing her justice. For not telling her of Hal when I had all those chances to do so.

Sabrina studies me. My failing attempt to hide my agony. My overly emotional state. The pile of notes next to me. She looks back up at me. “The witch…..you’re going to the witch to get your tattoo wounds healed?” I sit back on her question. Could I approach Toni about my recent wound? Or would I be demanding too much?

I release my fingers from their grip. They flex out as my palms rest on my pant legs. Traces of Blue enter my conscious. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, I suppose. “We’ll see.” I sigh, smoothing out the fabric of my pants. By now, I’m not crying as much, and my nerves have cooled. I glance out the window. Am I running late? I can’t tell from the light outside, it’s all grey and the sun isn’t out. I agreed that I would drive over to Pickens Park with the Joneses (I was hesitant about including them, but according to Toni, having a blend of magical and non-magical partakers of the seance could help calm the spirits). I shouldn’t keep them waiting.

I tuck strands of Sabrina’s hair back. “Will you be okay here by yourself?”

“I’m most likely going to study at the library with Jughead, so I’ll be fine.” I lean back in my place. The next sentence almost slips out of my mouth.  _ Again? How far are you falling behind? _ But I keep my mouth shut. It’s something Zelda would let slip out. But not me. I get up from the bed, scoping the notes into my arms. I smooth down her hair, doing my best to smile.

“Call me if you need anything, sweetheart.”

“I will.” she beams up at me. I start to walk away, heading for whatever fate awaits me. I’m about to walk out of the bedroom when Sabrina says, “Hope you’re able to heal your tattoo, Ali.” I stop in my tracks. I turn back around to face her. The smile on her face has softened. Her eyes still hold that troubled….look to them. Something’s looming in her mind. She has questions, I know she does. 

“Thanks.” I mutter, leaving it there. Then, I walk away, shutting the door behind me. 

My back leans against the wood. I toss the notes onto the kitchen table. My arms feel numb. My knees bend when I slide down to the floor. My heart splits in two, like it was opened by Pandora herself. My ears ring. My vision fuzzes. My cheeks burn. Who spoke to her in that dream? Who did it want her to talk to? Why can’t I just grow up and communicate like an adult? What is wrong with me?

Minutes pass. It takes me a while to recognize that my head has curled into my thighs. My nails clawing at my skull. My eyes raw and puffy. I lift my head and exhale. My phone buzzes, it snaps me back to reality. I shuffle around before I return to a standing position. I pull my phone out, releasing my shoulders. It’s Gladys. She’s wondering when I’m coming.

There’s no point in hiding in my sorrows. I need to go. I grab the papers and leave the trailer. Time to go meet Louis Cooper.

XXXXXXXX

**TONI**

It feels wrong standing out here in this park. I’ve passed so many families coming into Pickens Park this morning, playing on the swing sets and teeter totters, reading newspapers on park benches. They don’t know the evils of this place. The blood shed. The bodies burned and buried. I’m still wondering why I thought it was a good idea to conduct the seance out here. I would’ve preferred the comfort and the quiet of Granddad’s shop. Hell, I’d take the Jones’s trailer too. But this Louis Cooper….he buried a man out here. He stepped foot through these woods, he laughed and smiled on this ground. For Louis, it’s a place of familiarity. A good way to lure his spirit to our circle.

The trees provide a good protection from the falling snow. I stand underneath the big one, glancing upward. Somewhere in the perimeters of this tree, the person Rose Blossom’s clan believed to have murdered the Conways was buried alive. No gravestone, no funeral. Almost like the man never existed. I grip the coffee cup tighter in my hand, letting my bag fall to the ground. The rest of the party should be here any moment now. I glance around the area, validating my security. Riverdale has gotten turned upside down since the protests. Not like it ever was, but the deep truths of this town are getting unveiled. But I fear that it will not end well for those attempting to fight for justice, to those who go about one day at a time, to those who just want peace. No one in Riverdale has been safe since….that monster made its first kill. 

I take a sip from my coffee and begin my work. I lay out my grimoire in front of me, flipping it open to find the appropriate scriptures needed for this ritual. Using a stick I scavenged for earlier, I draw out the symbols, one by one. The snow makes it a little difficult to keep the shape of my drawings, but for now it will have to do. By having Alice and her acquaintance performing the seance with me, it will facilitate the whole process. I tend to conduct these rituals on my own for the clients that come to my shop. I pull them off just fine. But for a connection this….troubled….and sinister, today’s ritual could call for more than one source of magic.

Footsteps crunch in the snow nearby. I lean up. Where is that noise coming from? I grip onto the stick, preparing to fire off a defense spell. I turn my head to the source of the noise. “Toni!” a young voice cheers. My shoulders lose the tension. The stick in my hand lowers. A warm grin forms on my face. Not so far away, Jellybean Jones sprints over to me, followed by her parents and Alice. The male witch is nowhere to be found, which makes me a bit concerned. But I’m at least grateful to see Jellybean again.

I drop the stick next to my coffee cup. “Hey, you!” my expression relaxes. Jellybean closes the gap between us and wraps her tiny little arms around me. I giggle and embrace the girl into a bear hug. When did she get so damn big? Would it be a good idea to keep the girl around for this seance?

“Long time, no see.” Mister Jones greets me. Gladys hangs under his arm. Alice lingers in the back. I don’t pick up on her limp until she’s closer to us. Was she limping last night when she came into the shop?

I turn to the Joneses, “The shop’s still going if you ever want to stop by. Surprised Jughead hasn’t popped his head in. Oh, don’t tell me he’s finally given up on those conspiracy theories.” I laugh through the small talk. Okay, I actually do enjoy talking with FP and Gladys. They really looked out for me and my friends back in high school. Their kids were sweethearts too. I really latched onto Jellybean as if she were my own little sister, and the gang and I welcomed Jughead with open arms for our G-and-G campaign. If anyone deserves to start a brand new life outside of Riverdale, it’s those kids. 

“You don’t mind having Jellybean join us, do you?” Alice finally voices. She has a hand glued by her thigh. Something really is off with her. I’ll need to ask her about it when we’re done with this. I tell her it’s not an issue. Alice mentioned to me last night that the girl has been actively involved in their little hunt, doing research and accompanying on trips throughout Riverdale. How old was I when Granddad took me to my first Uktena ritual? I remember how intimidating it all felt, those people chanting and raising flames high into the sky. The smoke formed into animals, ones I saw in my studies. It took me months before I could muster up the courage to take part in those gatherings without any fear. I commend Jellybean for having that courage now. It makes me envious.

I glance around for any sign of the male witch. “Where’s your friend? Did he bail out last minute?” I notice Alice shrugging her shoulders. The Joneses look equally confused. Then, I pick up on a new aura. Well, it’s not new, I met it last night. But it’s approaching our little congregation. The male witch appears, following the same path as Alice and the Joneses. He’s in a rush, he’s embarrassed as he tugs at his yellow scarf. The expression lightens when he spots Alice, the way he did last night at the shop. He mumbles an apology for running late, I don’t know whether to me or to Alice. She places a hand on his upper arm, a warming gesture. Why do I feel like I’m watching a sappy Hallmark rom-com? Are they aware that they’re publicly displaying their affection for one another? Perhaps I’m the only one noticing, maybe not. Gladys studies their interaction too. Not sure if I can stomach another minute, I finally notice the bag hanging over one shoulder, opposite of her touch. I also realize that I don’t think I got this witch’s name. I think she muttered it while I dug around for supplies in the shop. What was it? Hugo? Henry?

The male witch brings his gaze over to me. “Are you in need of any more supplies, Miss Topaz?”

“Got everything I need, pal.” I wave him off. I let go of Jellybean and return to my set-up. I gesture for the group to come join me. I explain the basics, “Mix yourselves between witch and non-witch. We’ll create a stronger energy source that way.”

Mister Jones cocks his head down at my drawings in the snow. “Hold on. I’m really confused. How does an energy source come from that?” I thought Gladys had said something about her husband not knowing much about witchcraft. Maybe I should assume that she and Alice filled him in on the details not too long ago. Either way, it would be polite of me to provide the details. It’s what I do for my clients.

“It shows the spirit that it’s come to a….safe space.” I cringe at my own description. But it seems to work for him. He and Gladys step into the area, followed by Jellybean. Alice limps slowly. Her companion stays by her side, offering assistance. She hesitates, then she drapes an arm over his shoulders. They move in sync with each other, like they’re dancing. While it’s sappy, It’s quite interesting to watch. They reach the circle. She lets go of him, muttering  _ Thanks, Hiram. _ Hiram? That’s his name? Huh, not what I pictured for him. It sounds more fitting for an aging white-haired man with glasses and a mustache. Not this gentleman across the circle from me. 

The two split up, taking their places between the Joneses. I stand in the middle of Gladys and Jellybean, with Alice next to the girl, and Hiram between her parents. I lower down, digging through my bag once more to grab the last of the materials needed for this ritual. I grab a couple of candles and a lighter. I eye the circle…. I should have put the candles down before drawing out the symbols. How could I have forgotten this simple step? I think going through this ritual with a family I know, and with other witches….it’s making me nervous. In fact, I don’t think I’ve worked with other witches in a long time. Not since my early days training with the Uktena.

“Here, let me.” The new witch, Hiram, extends his arm out towards one of the candles. I hold out for a second, not sure whether his kind gesture as a joke or as something legitimate. I take another look at his face. It’s legitimate. I underhand toss him the candle, then another one to Alice. I instruct them both to place the candles in front of them, right by the adjacent symbols. 

I turn to Alice. “You got any mementos of the guy?” She gulps in a big breath. Then, she reaches into her coat pocket. She flips open a couple sheets of paper. A vintage photograph is settled in between. She traces her fingers along the material. Her eyes go distant. They look glossy. Dead.

Alice hands the photo to the young girl, who then hands it to me. “He’s in the second row. Dirty blonde hair, light eyes.” I scan the rows of faces, all nine of them. There’s only one woman in this photo, someone with red hair. I spot the face Alice described. Our man. I try to picture what he was, if he spent nights with friends at the bar or found comfort in solitude. 

“What other info do we need?”

“He worked at the Register downtown. Wrote columns.” Jellybean pipes up. I watch her grab the stack of papers from Alice and handing it to me. Scanned copies of older articles when the town was in the Reaper daze. Surely enough, Louis Cooper exists in these pages. So he was a writer. I flip through the articles, absorbing the stories he told to the public. He’s good. Maybe not enough to be remembered.

“Anything else?” I ask the group. It’s quiet. They exchange worried glances with each other. Gladys bites her lip. Jellybean twiddles her thumbs and rocks back and forth on her feet. It remains this way for a long minute.

Eventually, Hiram speaks on behalf of the group. “It was all we could find.” he begins confidently, then he goes mute. Really? This is all we have? The questions scream out of my eyeballs. I don’t mean for it to come off intimidating, but it leaves the man feeling….remorse. He grows gloomy. Remorseful. “I apologize….” He pauses. Was he about to call me Antoinette again? I’m aware Toni is short for Antoinette, I’m not an idiot. But the sound of my given name caught me off guard. Hiram picks back up from where he left off, “Miss Topaz.”

My shoulders droop in relief. I’ll take that. I wave the papers in my hand. “This will work just fine.” I direct my attention to the rest of our circle. “We won’t have much time to keep his spirit in our realm. So, we’ll need to keep the interrogation short and sweet. He’ll be frightened. Unaware of his surroundings. We need him calm and collected at all costs. Got it?” The Joneses face each other, then their daughter. They nod at me. Jellybean does too. And Hiram. Alice exhales, releasing a frozen breath into the air. Her head remains still. She taps gently on her bad leg. Everyone waits for her. 

“I’m ready.” she finally mutters. So it begins.

I concentrate on the candle below me. With a flick of my hand, a flame comes to life. Alice and Hiram follow in suit. I let the papers fall onto the snow. I hold out my hands, signaling for everyone else to do the same. I take Gladys and Jellybean’s hands, Alice grabs for the girl and for Mister Jones. Hiram stands there stubbornly staring at the other man. The uncomfortable moment lasts merely for a second before I raise a brow at both of them. A miniscule gesture indicating,  _ Just do it, assholes _ .  _ Time is not on our side. _ They comply. With all of our hands joined, I chant the familiar words. I call for the spirits to help us, the way they always do during these rituals, and all of my work before. I begin this summoning alone, my voice speaking the familiar language of the Uktena. Our coven’s rituals stem from the practices of the Native witches, when they fled from their own blood. They sought forgiveness from all that passed, either by disease or execution. They begged the spirits to lead them on the right path, to protect them from harm, to uncover a truth. And today, we need this man to tell us what really happened in Riverdale’s dark period.

More voices join my own. The rhythm comes to the witches naturally. The Joneses fumble, but they get the gist. Jellybean is the only one not speaking among us. She’s nervous, and I don’t blame her. Should I pause to help her out? Or would it mess up everything? I’m about to stop when Alice picks up on the girl’s quiet nature. She lowers down slightly to match the girl’s height. “Don’t focus on how everyone else is talking sweetheart.” I hear her whisper. “Follow along as best as you can.” Alice looks to me for confirmation, hoping that by pausing her rhythmic chanting it didn’t throw off the ritual.

I nod. “Last go around of this chant.” I tell them both. Then, I jump back into my trance. Alice joins with ease, Jellybean hums along to our voices. The last words are spoken. I stop. Everyone waits for me to move onto the next step. I lower down, reaching for the papers. Gently, I tip the edge of the papers into the orange and yellow flames. Ash floats into the cold air. History withers away at the dancing flames. 

I fling what remains of the papers into the air. They hover over our circle. Below, the symbols glow in coordination with the flames. My eyes shut, bracing for what will come next.

“Louis Cooper,” I pronounce, “we ask for you to find us here in Pickens Park. We do not wish to bring harm to your soul. We only seek your presence in this circle. We view you as a friend, a missing part of history yet to be written. Come to us, Louis. Signal us through these candles, find something to cling to. We ask no more than this. Here, we will wait.”

My tongue ceases. My lips close. It’s almost as if the voice that spoke did not come from me, but from another entity. And yet, my throat dries and crinkles. I open my eyes. The Joneses glance around nervously. Jellybean gives my hand gentle pulses. She’s glowing up at me. I can’t help but grin at her. I break away to find Alice and Hiram keeping their gaze on one another. It’s hopeful yet worrisome.

One minute passes. Nothing happens. The candles are still glowing. The symbols in the snow have lost their color. No indication of Louis or any other inhabitants. Just the six of us standing in a snowy public park while the rest of the world burns.

Another minute. Stillness. Tranquility. Anxiousness. Did I not recite the correct summoning spell? Did my blend of magic and mortal result in a failed ritual? My mind races, my Granddad’s ghost looms over my shoulders. If he were here, he’d be disappointed. I can practically hear him within the wind blowing. _ This isn’t the way of the Uktena, Toni, and you know it. I left that group for a reason. Riverdale is a lost cause. Why are you still clinging onto a pipe dream?  _ Reason says honor and dignity. My heart says,  _ Because it’s still my world, Granddad. Because even though you gave up and walked away, I still have to live in it. _

It’s Mister Jones who breaks the prolonged silence. “Would it be bad if I stepped out for a minute, Toni?” He nervously checks his watch, backing away from Hiram and Alice. I shrug my shoulders. I say it’s up to him, depending on the reason. He continues to go backwards and replies, “Don’t want Keller or anyone in PD to find us, right? ‘Cause that means we’re all in trouble---”

Wind blows through, killing the flames. Mister Jones falls to his knees in the snow. His back faces us, hunched up like a cat. He hollers. “DADDY!” Jellybean cries. She makes an attempt to rush to her father, but Gladys blocks her path. Alice and I meet eyes, so does Hiram. The smell of burned wicks fills the air. 

Louis. He’s clung to Mister Jones.

I break through the group with Alice on my trail. I halt behind the man, waiting before I place a hand onto his back. Electricity shocks my fingertips. I wince and pull the hand away, blessing out loud. Alice moves to the other side of him. She holds off on touching him. Then, she comes to face Mister Jones, kneeling down in front of him. She reaches for his shoulders. “FP?” Heavy breathing. Rising limbs. Quiet.

He lifts his head, much slower than usual. “Wh...who are you?” The voice that comes out does not match the voice I know.

I rush over to Alice’s side, glancing downward at…. The brown color of Mister Jones’s eyes are traded for a color much lighter. A greyish blue. What inhabits this body makes the lips tremble. The body meek. The overall presence of….him, terrified.

“Daddy?” Jellybean mumbles.

“Baby girl,” Gladys clings to her daughter. “That’s not Daddy.”

Alice takes a hold of his face. She realizes, just as Gladys told her Jellybean, that the face she knows is not the one in front of her now.

“Louis?”

The inhabitant in Mister Jones scans his new surroundings. He does not recognize the faces around him. In the past when I’ve done this ritual, whatever spirits that are summoned tend to stay frigid. Some accept the situation and agree to comply with the questions asked, the comfort needed to those still remaining in the living world. Something tells me that Louis might bail out on us if we don’t get him to calm down.

“Louis Cooper? Can you hear me?” He stops his panicked motion. He sees me. I lower down to his level. I speak in a reassuring tone. “Don’t be afraid. You’re in good company.” His mouth gapes open and closed. For a moment, I’m worried a word may exit that mouth. One so heinous and awful that would degrade my existence into nothing.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he says, “Is this the afterlife? Did I make it at last?” My eyes sting at his sentence.  _ Did I make it at last? _ Oh boy, that’s not a good sign. 

Alice notices that too. “Louis….” she speaks hesitantly, having trouble finding the right words. She forces down the lump in her throat. She ignores the pain from her leg. She picks up where she left off, “you’re in Riverdale. In Pickens Park, to be exact. We….we need to ask you some questions.” Alice pauses. Her gaze goes distant, not wandering over to the light blue in her friend’s face. She’s deliberately avoiding them. But I’m too focused on his words.  _ Did I make it at last? _ Why wouldn’t he have passed over? What could he have done to prevent him from….

The Reaper. Alice claimed to have seen the downfall of the Conways through the Reaper’s eyes. She’s danced with him and almost fell victim to his evil. But Louis? A mortal? What could the Reaper have wanted from him, other than he served as an executor in a group of tyrannical namesakes?

Louis shivers through Mister Jones’s body. “It’s cold.” he mumbles, his voice light and broken. He struggles to get up onto the body’s feet, he almost tumbles forward. Alice guides him up. I stay on the sidelines, watching their interaction. She’s scared to keep touching him, she’s scared to meet his eyes. The inhabitant finds the oak tree behind us. “You...you said we were in Pickens Park?” The eyes go down to the ground, to the roots of the ancient tree. His words come slowly, staggering in between nervous gulps for fresh air. “We buried a body under there. I hated that day. I heard him scream all the way down. He begged for God to come and save him. Our leader….Rose, wanted us to believe that we were in the presence of God. But….but God don’t live here in Riverdale. It’s been taken over by something else…… Something that came for me.”

No one speaks. No one breathes. Hang on….did he just confess to….

“That’s why you brought me here, isn’t it?” I realize that Louis is asking me the question, not Alice or anyone else in the group. “You want to know why it was me?”

My face falls. I think all of our worst fears have been spoken into reality. The Reaper never came for his victims under a guise of an original body. He came through….he came through Louis himself.

“He possessed you. That’s how he got away with it. He made you kill....” Hiram voices the unspoken truth. Louis uses Mister Jones to face the other man. With sorrow eyes and trembling lips, he nods. A dread falls in all of us. A realization that we did not want to face until now. Louis Cooper acted as the vessel for the Reaper. And he probably had no clue until it was too late. Hiram runs his palm across his mouth. His eyes water up. He makes eye contact with Alice. In the nothing, I can hear his thoughts. What he wants to say to Alice.  _ We should have known. He was right under our noses. _

“When did the Reaper first use you?” I find the courage to ask. The inhabitant blinks at me. I admit, the icy emptiness of that color freaks me out. I get why Alice doesn’t want to look into them at every waking moment. But she knew those eyes. She had to escape from those eyes.

The inhabitant folds Mister Jones’s arms in so he clings to the elbows. He’s trying to find the words, I can see in his expression. What would he want to forget? We’re waiting for him to give us an answer, I’m on pins and needles. And through it all, I’m getting a….weird notion. Something itching the back of my brain. 

After a long period of nothing, Louis explains his story. “I never felt important in life. I always saw myself as someone ordinary. I thought writing for the Register could help me make a name for myself. Living in Riverdale and befriending the people in that group gave me a reason to live. But….there was deep rooted evil from the beginning. Crooked people. Backwards morals. None of it made sense. I knew there was talk of witchcraft tainting this town. I never wanted to believe it, but each day left me asking if what I believed was a reality. Or if I really was losing my mind. During those days, all I wanted was to pack up and leave. To never return to such a wicked place.

“Then he came. He found me in the shadows as I was closing up the Register one night. He whispered to me, said he could help make me great. That I can make this town better. He asked me to come closer, to glimpse into what we could do together. I thought it was a joke, that it was one of my co-workers from the paper playing tricks. But something about him allured me. In his words, I envisioned myself as someone brave. Someone good. I wanted to believe him. So I reached out to him.

“Everytime we connected, I felt like I had bounced into a dream. Visions blurred and voices sung all around me. I saw faces welcoming me with open arms into a new, beautiful Riverdale. But everytime I woke up, I found myself back in my little home. And I could smell….blood. Metal. I could never pick up the smell of it all. 

“Around that time, people began to die. Rose and our group began those witch trials. I never saw myself connected to it. But I wanted those alliances, I needed security. I grew scared, so I joined those hunts. But no matter what we did, more people died. And he kept coming to me. I didn’t know why this thing came for me, but I was scared to turn it away. And he continued to come when I felt at my worst. And it would happen over and over again. Dream-state, horrible wake-up. And that blood smell. I never realized where it came from and why I could smell it.” 

His tale pauses. Tears form in the inhabitant’s eyes. Gladys and Jellybean remain in the back, listening carefully for any crucial details. Hiram’s heart rises and falls. And Alice….she remains motionless. Lost in a trance. She could break at any moment. Her connection to the Reaper changed her. As it did for Louis. The inhabitant stares down at Mister Jones’s hands. Is this the first time he’s realized that the body he came to is not his own? Was he expecting to find dirt? Blood?

A tear rolls down his cheek. “It was only after the Conways that I realized what I had done. What  _ he  _ made me do.” Questions swarm my brain like hornets. Why them? What about them provoked you….him to make you kill them? Alice lets the man go. Her face goes blank. No...she’s horrified. She told me she saw the Conway murders. She heard their screams, their final breaths. The gun-shots.  _ I’ve been around death _ , she told me,  _ I’ve felt its horridness _ .  _ But not like that. Not like what happened to that family. _ I watch her teeter backwards. She looks pale. She could fall completely into the snow. Hiram calls out for her. He practically shoves me aside so he can make his way over to her. His hand gingerly goes to cup her cheek. It’s tender and loving. He cocoons her in warmth. In some hope that she will not succumb to the darkness the way Louis did.

Gladys moves over to my side. She glances down at the inhabitant inside her husband. She throws out a question. “That kid, Joseph Conway. What happened when you and Blossom interrogated him? Was….was he there?”

Louis straightens Mister Jones’s back. The tears don’t stop coming. It’s heartbreaking to keep watching him fall apart. How long afterwards did he blame himself for the events of the Reaper massacre? That he could fall prey to that monster? Louis brings the unfamiliar hands to the unfamiliar face. He uses the palms to wipe away the wetness on the cheeks.

“That was the last time the Reaper came to me. He told me we needed to protect us. He wanted to protect that boy from harm. He told me to go with that group, to go to that place outside of town, where they held the boy.” He doesn’t say the name of the place, but I know where he’s referring to. The Sisters of Quiet Mercy. It became a nursing home after years of fraudulent practices as an orphanage-slash-mental institution. One of my friends got a job there. Who knew that a nursing home once held the survivor of a horrid massacre?

“When I stepped foot into that place, my skin burned. I could feel him in me. I wanted to tell that boy to run. I know he saw me that night. He saw my eyes. I wanted him to lead a good life. I hoped he could get as far away from me as possible. But when I stepped foot into that room, he took over. I never knew what was said, what the boy did to get us all to leave. By the time we left, we had a man. One I only saw once. We buried him the next day. We buried him….and it should have been me.” He does his best to hold back sobs. The hands shake. The lips tremble. He’s sniffling. The greyish blue of his eyes show some light. Some chance of hope. But it’s fading away. I see it with every spirit that comes to these circles. They grow tired of the questions. They fear the truth of their reasons for dying. They want to leave after that. They always leave right when we get to the meat of it. We just need Louis to hold on for a little bit longer. And I need to figure out where this ache in my head is coming from, and why it won’t go away.

“Why the Conways?” I grit my teeth through the ache. “Why did he go after them?” Louis stares at me with wet eyes. I could ask again, much angrier, much more on edge. But I don’t. I patiently wait for the answer. Jellybean inches closer to the group. She waits by the person inside her father. She crouches down to her knees. She places her hand one his shoulders. She knows that the man next to her is not her father. But she wants to cling to that hope. That when this all blows over, she can call that man her father once more. She waits there, keeping her hand on that shoulder. The rest of us don’t know what to make of it. Especially Gladys.

“Jellybean….what are you doing?” She goes to reclaim her daughter. Hiram tells her to wait. He’s picked up on something. And so has Alice. And so have I. Louis turns to the girl as she wipes away stray tears. He takes her free hand into his own. Then, tucking away some hair, he whispers something into her ear. None of us know what, or why. Why does he trust this girl out of all of us? The girl glares down at the snow. She stays unmoved at first….her brows raise. Her little saucer eyes enlarge. She tilts her head towards him. With remorse, he nods. 

Alice calls for her, growing more panicked as her voice raises. “What did he say? Louis, what did you just say to her?” 

Jellybean rises from the snowy ground. Her hands fall to her sides. She leaves her head hanged for a while. Then, she brings her eyes up to Alice. 

She speaks in stumbled terms. “They knew it was him. Mister Conway was going to have him imprisoned. Your demon….he wanted to keep them quiet. To eliminate people who knew the truth. He’d rather take out a random person than let everyone bring him down.”

My heart falls to my stomach. I could vomit. Alice looks as if she could faint. Hiram keeps her steady and upright. Gladys pulls her daughter back into her safe embrace. Louis silently sobs. No choking. No wails. Just tears down cheeks without a word. It’s haunting. And his eyes….they’re glued on Alice. They haven’t left her since he had Jellybean relay his message.

He stands up. He moves in baby steps towards her. She’s frozen in her place, in Hiram’s arms. Louis takes a few more small steps, then halts. He’s barely a foot or two away from her. “You know his power.” his voice wobbles. Alice teeters away from Hiram, regaining some reassurance in herself. Perplexed, she makes an effort to get closer to Louis, closing their gap. He continues to speak only to her, like the rest of us don’t exist. “He’s hurt you. The way he hurt me. I’m sorry he did that.” She begins to cry. She steps in closer, bringing her thumb to push back a newly formed tear. It’s gentle. It’s sympathetic. A sign of understanding.

We wait on the sidelines as they converse. “Did he kill you, Louis?” 

“No….he never laid another hand on me after that burial. I wouldn’t let him.”

“Then what happened? Who….who ended your life?” she begs. By now, she has both hands clinging to his face. He uses Mister Jones’s hands to place them gingerly on her upper arms. Alice studies the face trapped inside her friend. She takes one long look at his eyes. She brings the forehead to tap her own. I’m taken aback. What propelled her to show this level of kindness? This man acted as the masquerade to a monster. Why is she placing herself in danger? And….and why won’t this headache go away? I bring my fingertips to my forehead, squinting my eyes closed. My nostrils dry up at this notion. Like they could bleed.

Louis takes a deep breath. He glares at Alice. “No one. I did.”

Alice freezes. Panic paints across her face. She releases her grip on him. She backs away from him, the truth settling in. I could throw up. We all could. He doesn’t need to tell us the end of his story, I can see it unfolding for myself in my mind. A river outside of town. A place where no one in Riverdale would want to search for a nobody. A place to disappear. To drown out the voices. I could fall to my knees, I almost lose my balance. Louis went to that river, and he never made it out. He didn’t want to get out. The pain in my head increases. My ears ring. The seances before ended somewhat peacefully with the inhabitants wanting to leave, with the willing party ready to send the spirit back. But this spirit does not want to leave. He found a hidden piece of her. One that she has not shared with us. With anyone.

Lous closes their gap again, using Mister Jones’s hands to reach for her. They cling to her throat, pinching the skin. “Come with me. You’re a kind lady, but you’ve been hurt. No one will ever hurt you again.” Alice gapes like a fish. Gladys pulls Jellybean behind her. I can’t move. I can’t say anything, only because I can’t fathom what he just said. What he offered to do. Louis offered to kill Alice to free her from her misery.

Hiram grips my shoulder, rotating me to face him. Like a wake-up call, he hisses, “Get that man out of FP.  _ NOW _ .”

The desperate voice continues behind me. “We don’t need them, miss. YOU don’t need them.” He pauses, tilting his head up towards me. His eyes bulge. The face contorts. He doesn’t say it, but I know it to live on his tongue. One word. It never comes out. He conveys another message, using Mister Jones’s index finger, inflicting his tone of speech. “Especially  _ her _ .”

The ringing of my ears drowns out the rest of the world. It’s on his brain. What all like him back then had on their brains. One word. My jaw tenses up. My eyes sting. So do my nostrils. Everything hurts. I hate it. I hate  _ him.  _ **_Get him out. NOW._ **

I rush over to Louis, my nails digging into Mister Jones’s hair. I drag him away from Alice, forcing him onto his knees. I begin the end. “Louis, your time on this Earth has ended. Go back to which you came. Your presence is no longer welcome here.” The inhabitant ignores me. He continues to yell at Alice, begging her to join him. He screams it, over and over. I repeat, louder, “Your presence is no longer welcome here.”

Louis makes one last attempt to reach Alice. He no longer speaks on behalf of the Reaper, or for Rose Blossom. “Kill him. Kill the Reaper. You’re the only one who can.”

I can’t take this anymore. I grab his head, forcing it down between the knees. 

“GET THE FUCK OUT!”

Wind pulses past me and the others. Snow flies into the air. My throat clenches, leaving it hoarse. My heart flies out of my chest. Hot tears leave my eyeballs. It’s all silent. I release my grip, going back from the scene. Louis is no longer inside Mister Jones, I can’t pick up an aura. The host lifts his head, staring down at his hands. He spots Alice across from him. He doesn’t know what happened, not yet at least. All he knows is he did something to her. He hurt his friend.

Mister Jones chokes, “Alice….Alice, I’m sorry.” She leans in, pulling him into her arms. She coddles his head against her, stroking his back, telling him it’s okay. It’s not his fault. Gladys and Jellybean rush over to the two on the ground. Hiram waits by Alice, anticipating the worst to occur again. I’m by myself standing here. No one comforts me. No one sees if I’m okay. I’m the outsider in a group of outsiders.

Alice takes note of my absence. She meets my gaze. “Toni?”

No….no, I can’t be here any longer. I won’t take part in this nightmare. Not again. I let my Granddad down. I let the Uktena down. All because I did something nice for someone else. They’ll never help me. No one will.

I make a run for my bag by the tree. I don’t bother to grab the candles left in the snow. I don’t listen to the other voices calling for me to come back, to understand what’s wrong. I don’t want to play the game of the Reaper. I will not become another martyr for a lost cause.

I keep walking away, not looking back.

XXXXXXXX

**ALICE**

My throat still feels raw. I’ve been running my fingers along that spot Louis made FP pinch. It wasn’t FP’s fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. But we lost Toni. After Louis left, she grabbed her things and took off. She panicked, she saw something awful. No, she  _ heard _ something. What did Louis say to make her that upset? We haven’t found out. Gladys tried to get in contact with her all afternoon with no success. I would have gone back to her shop earlier, but my priorities were on FP. The seance shook him. It left him twitching and afraid to let his guard down. How could I blame him? There was a dead man taking over his soul, speaking through his lips, clawing at me….

_ Kill the Reaper. You’re the only one who can. _ Those last words echo in my memory. None of it makes sense. Why me? Because I survived Hal’s wrath? Because I had the courage to come back? Louis saw my pain. He wept at my scars and offered to take them all away. He gave me a chance to leave. I do, I want to escape my past. But not by his methods. Not with a coward’s way out. Besides, I can’t bring Hal down alone.

That’s why as the sun is setting, I’m having Hiram drive me to her shop. I need to talk with Toni. I need to tell her what’s really going on, why she may be the best chance we have at stopping Hal. I need her. We all need her.

He pulls the car close to a curb, just a building away from the shop. My eyes remain glued to the dashboard, watching the sky fade from greyish yellow to hazy orange. I feel my neck pulse. I wonder if a bruise will form. Something moves at the corner of my eye. I follow the object….only to find Toni in her shop wiping dust off the shelves. She doesn’t know Hiram and I are here. It’s not my intention to frighten her in a place of comfort. I hate to bug her this way. But I regret how we left things back at the park. She needs to know that we’re here for her. At least I’m here for her.

The car engine comes to a stop. I hear the keys leave their designated place, flopping down into the cupholder. Breeze dances throughout the car. Fingers slip into my hand, intertwining with them. My knuckles are greeted by the tenderness of his thumb.

“Would you like me to come in with you?” the question comes out as a breath. My eyes leave Toni, wandering over to him as he wedges his thumb between my fingers. It’s smooth and comforting. I let my fingers enclose over his thumb. “I understand if you think it’d be easiest to…” He stops, biting his lip. I can feel his arm shake. He’s cold. Or maybe he’s just nervous. His fingertips patter on the steering wheel. He does this for a little while before the hand falls into his lap. He chuckles mid-sentence as he woundfully admits, “Maybe it would be best if you went on your own. I’m afraid I pissed her off.” 

The negative self-talk hurts, especially coming out of his mouth. So, I decide that I need to lighten the mood of this conversation. “Hey,” I tug the combination of our hands onto my lap, covering my other one over his. The initials of our contract tattoos on our wrists glow from the sun setting. I wait for him to make eye contact with me before I speak. “It was a warped seance beyond anyone’s control. We couldn’t have predicted Louis’s behavior.” I lean back against the leather seat. I run my thumb across his wrist. “But it’s still the right thing to do. To check in on her.” Clogged breath builds in my lungs. I huff it all out in one go. “Also….”

“What?”

I lazily turn my head towards Hiram. A giant smirk forms on my face. “Out of the two of us, I’m the only one allowed to piss people off. So….you’re gonna need to find yourself a new gig, Manhattan.”

Hiram snorts while laughing. I end up giggling too, relieving the pain from both my thigh and my throat. I watch in giddy as he over exaggerates his distress. “WOW. Really? This whole act again, Acid Queen Alice?”

I bat my eyelashes at him. “I’ve mastered the art of being an utter bitch to people.” The corners of my mouth lift. We’re both giggling to the point where our stomachs could get sore. I spot a little glimmer in his eyes when he brings his cheerful gaze to me. Whenever he brings a cheerful gaze at any time. I soften my sarcastic nature. “Well, to  _ most _ people. Not you.” It doesn’t hit me right away what I just said, but when it does, my lips go into a straight, panicked line. I rotate my head back to the windshield, staring out at it all bug eyed. I wait for him to respond, whether out of ridicule or of….other things. I have to play out the worst case scenarios here.

What I end up getting is a little scoff of amusement. The noise causes me to look at him again. I’m greeted with a coy smirk. “Was that….flirting?” he teases me. I feel exposed. Maybe I am starting to think differently of him, beyond friendship. I ignore the comment and return to my bugged out state of mind. But that doesn’t stop him one iota. Hiram tilts into me, his lips close to my ear. “I thought flirting wasn’t part of our contract. Unless you have changed your mind…”

That breaks my silence. “I…” I bark, glaring over at him. The smirk proudly stays on his face. His eyes take on a playful….seductive glimmer to them. It’s so much like how he attempted to interact with me in high school. And so much of how I have grown flustered by his presence. His kindness. His….feelings for me.  _ If _ there are feelings for me.

I sigh. One finger lifts into the air. I furrow my eyes at him. “The contract is just a guideline.” I defend my actions. 

“So, flirting’s on the table?” Hiram grows a Cheshire Cat smile. My chin lifts upward. I try to maintain my straight demeanor, but….damn it. Those eyes are breaking apart my rigidness. My demeanor fades away, the corners of my mouth lift, my heart flutters a little.

“For now.” I demand, “But don’t get your hopes up.” I wind up cracking a small grin, feeling my mood lighten. We sit there giggling for a good while. In the background, inside the shop, Toni continues to move about. She picks up on the car outside, stopping her in her path. She wanders towards the window to check it out, then, she frowns. I watch as she turns away.

“I better go talk to her.” I break our gleeful moment. His expression transforms from blissful to concerned. Without much thought, I squeeze his hand a little tighter. “You don’t have to wait for me to come out. I can make it back to the trailer park on my own.”

“Are you sure?”

I scoff. “I spent my childhood here, remember?” His lips form an upward curved line as he nods his head. “I’m serious, Hiram. Go enjoy your night. Spend time with your daughter. Like….take her to a movie, or something father-daughter-ee.” I think out loud, to his…. I would describe it as amusement or delight, but it looks more mournful. When was the last time Hiram spent time with Veronica? When did they have time to just be father and daughter?

Hiram rests back in his seat, his hand still gripping onto my own. I wonder if Toni came back to the window to see why we’re outside. But there’s no sign of her. And I need to keep my focus on Hiram and his family for just one more minute. Because he doesn’t look too thrilled at the sound of the idea, and it’s making me worried.

My concerns are answers, but not in a way I expect. He responds, “If I could just get her away from that cat….” My heart sinks. Sabrina’s cat. I forgot Veronica had graciously offered to cat-sit for us while Sabrina fell ill. I’ve been so preoccupied on finding Louis and getting into contact with Toni that the fact slipped from my mind. Especially after what Veronica said before Hiram and I went to the Conway House.  _ He’ll find his way back to you. _

“Every time I go to talk with her, even to bid her good night,” Hiram begins to confess, “she’s deep in conversation with that thing. I understand if she needs space. I understand that she’s stepped up and done something generous for Sabrina. But the presence of that cat just….I don’t know what to say, Alice. It’s all so odd.”

“What do you think I dealt with when the cat was with me and Sabrina?” I admit rather harshly. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s good Sabrina found a little comfort at the beginning of her transition here. I’m glad she could project her care onto another living thing. But the cat gives off weird vibes. No….it gives off sinister vibes. It made me vomit. It didn’t come to my defense when Hal attacked me in the trailer. It disappeared when those kids in Sabrina’s class died….

I shake the bad vibes off. I can’t stay focused on a stupid black cat. I need to see Toni before I lose my chance. I let go of Hiram’s hand to unbuckle my seat belt. “Promise me you’ll at least try, okay?” He hesitates to answer, then after a moment, he mumbles an Okay. I cup his cheek and smile. I spy Toni watching us from the window again. So she did come back. I lock eyes with her for a brief moment. Embarrassed, she scurries off.

“Let me know how it goes.” Hiram asks of me in return. I nod, keeping close to him for a little longer. After this, I peel myself away. I hop out of the car, tugging at my coat as the wind picks up momentum. I leave the door hanging open, gripping on the plastic covering as I prepare myself for what will happen next. I turn back to Hiram with my heart ready to pop out through my mouth.

“Okay. Wish me luck.” I mutter, then I shut the door. I make my sights on the shop. I don’t know how Toni will react. I expect she’ll be angry, she’ll be frightened. Whatever emotions may come, she has a right to hold them. I commend her perseverance.  _ I need her to recognize that. Daisies and candles, Alice. Listen to her and see how you can both move forward. _ I head for the shop, leaving Hiram behind.

I get to the door, and as I’m about to yank on the handle, I pause. What if she’s already locked up for the day? It’s almost five, isn’t it? I hover my hand over the door handle, wondering whether it’d be a good idea to test my fate, or to wait until tomorrow morning. Before I can make up my mind, the door clicks open. The motion makes me jump back a little. I look up. Toni lowers her hand from inside the shop, giving me a sympathetic look.  _ I’m ready when you are _ , it says. I don’t want to delay this longer, so I walk in.

It’s warm when I enter. The place smells of earthly minerals and cinnamon. I could take off my jacket, but I don’t plan on making this trip long. Toni leans against her counter half the floor away from me. She’s keeping her distance, and I don’t blame her. I would have done the same if I….if I remained so isolated from society. But I’m not like that anymore. And I don’t want Toni to fall down the same path that I once did.

She’s the one to instigate the conversation. “Take it, they want me to redo the seance?”

I shake my head. “No. I just….I wanted to see how you were holding up. We were all getting worried.” I keep my explanation short and simple. I don’t want to pound on too many details. I give her an update, trying to sound as optimistic as possible. “FP’s not that shaken up anymore.”

“Good.” she acknowledges this fact. “It might take him a couple of days for him to recover, but it won’t be the end of the world. Having a dead spirit roaming in your mind like that doesn’t go away overnight.” I watch her lips go flat. In her quiet, she wanders over to another part of her shop. She fumbles around with some of the items on a shelf. Does she want me to join her? Does she want me to leave?

“Can I be honest for a moment, Alice?” her voice echoes across the room. “I’m kind of glad you’re not asking me to bring that freak back. I’m not in the mood to hear his voice again.” The tone of her words takes a dagger to my ribs. It’s devastating. Louis did hurt Toni with his words. I never took into consideration what he said, I was so caught up in getting away from his grip. From stopping him from using FP to hurt me.  _ You don’t need them _ , he said to me. But what about those words got to her? He added on something else, I have to dig through my recent memories to pull that part back out. It comes to me. The infliction in his voice. The attitude people like him had regarding people like her back then.  _ Especially  _ **_her_ ** _. _

My feet take me to where she once stood at the counter. My mouth opens before I plan out my apology. “That’s why I’m here, Toni.” The younger witch tilts her chin to me. I stumble as I go, “I didn’t….I didn’t know he would say that. It was cruel, and wrong. If...if I could have prevented him from attacking you---”

“It doesn’t matter, Alice.” she responds, disappointed yet sympathetically. She rests against the shelf facing me, crossing her arms, shielding herself from the world. She’s petrified, but she wants to hide it. She needs to act strong, even when she doesn’t feel like it. Like I used to be. “Nobody could have predicted how he would behave. We just have to grin and bear it, even when we don’t like what we hear. What we see.” Her gaze shifts, heading for the outer world. Her motion causes me to look that way too. Hal…. There’s nothing. Just dirty snow next to the pavement and the dim yellow of the street lamps. No indicators of my uglier half wandering the streets for his next victim.

“You’re still attached to him, aren’t you?” I look at Toni, not understanding her question. At first, I believe she’s referring to Hiram, or FP. But no, she’s referring to someone new altogether. Someone I thought was waiting for me. “The Reaper?” I force the wad of saliva down my throat and nod. Toni gestures downward, “Is that why your leg’s killing you?” I don’t respond. I don’t know what to give as an answer. How would Toni…. My thigh cramps up at the mentioning of its injury. I hover my hand down by my leg, tempting fate by exposing myself. But this isn’t about me. I’m not here to protect my own skin. I’m here to save hers.

“He took a lot away from me.” I tell her, wincing through the pain. She eyes my leg for another moment. She looks like she wants to go get something for it, to help me. But I interrupt the process, “I know how dangerous he is, Toni. I had an opportunity to kill him long ago, and I didn’t take it. He’s getting stronger, and….and I don’t want any more blood to be shed because of me.” I halt my speech to bite my lip. I think about those kids, Chuck and Midge. I think of Hermione, and Darryl, and Penelope. Sabrina could be next. Toni could be. Her life is more valuable than my own. I grip the edge of the counter to stable myself. I take a deep breath, then I look Toni in the eye. 

I speak with honesty. “I won’t ask you to put yourself in any more danger. I won’t have you become another lamb for him to slaughter. All I ask is….you have a chance for something better, Toni. If you are able to leave, do it. You don’t…..you shouldn’t have to stay in Riverdale. Not with him around.”

I only pause here, to gather more words. But in between this gap of time, something brews in the girl. Sadness. Confusion. Frustration. She breaks her prolonged silence.

“You think I  _ want  _ to stay here? You think I haven’t waited for a moment in my life to get out of this dump?” Her voice builds. I made the wrong move. I go to ask, but now it’s not my time to talk. “Alice, just  _ listen _ to me. I’m not belittling or invalidating your trauma for one minute. I know that demon hurt you. He made you hurt those people, and I’m sorry he did that…. But do you realize how lucky you got it? You were able to leave. You got a chance to start your life over. Witches like me don’t get that luxury! Do you understand?

“There’s a line from Shakespeare,  _ Twelfth Night _ . You know what part I’m referring to, right?  _ Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them. _ I’ve been the latter all my life. The weight of the Uktena has been placed on me before I came out of the womb. I didn’t choose that. I can’t just walk out and pretend like the Uktena doesn’t exist. But….but I can’t just sit around and watch the Serpents eat each other alive. I have to be the one to bring the Uktena back to what it was.  _ Me _ !”

She stops midway in a sentence, her heart rising and falling. Her eyes get glossy and red. She pushes herself away from the shelf, staring down at her hands. I hear the shallowness of her breath. And I say nothing of it. I do nothing. Toni brings her gaze back up to me. “I’m tired, Alice. I’m tired of fighting for a chance to breathe. To live. I’m the only one of my family left. Granddad’s gone, and my uncle….he kicked me out of his place and fled to who knows where. It’s just me, educating people, keeping my peace, playing along and acting like I’m fine….” She makes an attempt to say more, but her voice has given up. Her brain demands for peace. She crumbles onto the floor, curling into a ball against the counter wall. Her sobs echo through the shop.

I’m frozen, I’m heartbroken. Her last part sounded so eerily to what Sabrina has told me time and time again. _ I’m tired of acting like I’m okay, because I’m not. _ It derives a feeling of helplessness in me. It makes me realize how ignorant I truly am. How lucky Sabrina and I both are in life. 

Toni’s right. I got a chance to forge a new path for myself. Toni does not. Sabrina may not have the best family, but she has some stability. Toni does not. Whatever comes out of this war with Hal, Sabrina and I will at least have an opportunity to make it out. To return to our quiet lives in Greendale. To move on. Toni may not, and most likely will not. 

The truth is laid out in front of me. No, it smacks me right in the face. It stings, but it’s what I need to hear. No matter what I do following this crisis, and no matter where I end up, Toni and the Uktena will be forgotten. Just another footnote in the town’s warped history.

My feet guide me to where Toni hides her vulnerable state. I make my way down to the floor next to her, being careful to not make my thigh flare up. I have to blink back my own tears when listening to her weep. She really does remind me of Sabrina. I begin to think of all the danger Toni has undergone in her lifetime, from rowdy biker gang men, to people that claimed to be her friends only to stick to their pride and abandon ship on her, to her grandfather. I went through hell at her age, but out of the two of us, she’s had it worse.

It takes a minute for Toni to realize I’m next to her, that I haven’t fought back or criticized her words. She lifts her head and sniffles. “Just say it. I’m crying for attention. I was harsh with you.” 

“No. No, you weren’t.” I make myself clear. Her head straightens. She uses the side of her thumb to wipe away new tears. I look the girl in the eye. “You’re right. I was lucky. Dumb and desperate….but lucky. I haven’t walked a mile in your shoes, to see why other witches, and mortals, would judge your way of life. I don’t understand why you’re the last one of original Uktena blood, besides Gladys, to fight for change.” I stare down at my hands gripping onto the tops of my bent kneecaps. I lift the fingers slowly, releasing the tension. My shoulders ease from my ears. My bad leg relaxes. I go to reach for Toni, to take her hand into my own, but I stop. What if she doesn’t want me to do that? I let my hand linger in the air for a little while longer, then I bring it down to the floor.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever understand the world from your eyes.” I tell her, my voice beginning to warble. I’m greeted with glossy brown eyes. “I know I can’t fight in your place for the Uktena, or to tell you how to pick your battles. It’s your fight, and the fight for the Uktena.” For a moment, my mind flickers back to the vow Hiram gave me. The elegance of his delivery. The charisma behind his actions. The authenticity of him, and his care for me and Sabrina, and for his daughter. Him….

But now is not about him, or those girls. I channel the energy he gave me when I speak to Toni. “But…..you won’t have to go into it alone. Not anymore. I’ll do what I can to support you, to help make your voice heard, to live. Whatever it is you need….resources, time to build alliances….whatever it is….I’m with you one hundred percent.” 

When I finish, I feel the weight of my voice tickling my throat. I let my head realign with my ribs. I rest back against the counter wall. “I at least owe that to everyone that’s looked after me.” I mutter softly. “But more importantly, I owe it to you.” Toni stays quiet as she absorbs my promise. I don’t expect her to take it. I’m not asking her to accept any of what came out of my mouth. I’m a stranger, another customer that dragged her into my personal issues. She doesn’t owe me a damn thing. But after what happened today, I need to return the favor, even if it is just words of sympathy.

Her fingers find mine. They enclose around the top of my hand, nails grazing the inside of my palm. The small gesture brings my head to rotate back to her. “I can work with that.” she says, forming an authentic grin. I can’t help but smile too.

“Have you been to any of the protests since they started?” I ask, using my free hand to dry my cheeks.

She huffs, “Believe me, I wanted to. I’ve been keeping up on social media for details. But….no, I haven’t. Someone’s got to look over this shop. If I close it, for even just a day, it’ll be bad news. No way to keep paying the bills.” My smile fades. It’s not surprising, but it’s still a disappointment. Is the shop really that in dire need for someone to run it in order to survive? Does Toni not have anyone, even Gladys, to help her? I have to remind myself - Gladys is working many other jobs to get food on the table. Toni’s friends have all left town and moved on to better things. The other Serpents wouldn’t touch this place with a ten foot pole. Besides the legacy of the Uktena, this place is all she has.

A thought comes to me. It’s random, but perhaps if I voice it out loud to her, it could make sense. Maybe it could bring her some relief. I begin slowly. “Is there a protest happening tomorrow?”

“Out at Pickens Park, I think. Why?”

“What if….what if I looked after this place tomorrow? So you can go?” Toni stares at me, not quite absorbing the offer. Then it hits her. She blinks at me. She sits up straighter, she grips my hand tighter.

“Wait, you’re not joking? You mean it?”

“You have a right to express your opinions, Toni.” I explain my point. “You shouldn’t be denied the right to go and join in on that protest. Also, you deserve a break from running this shop all on your own.” Toni pushes herself off the counter wall, getting back onto her while still holding onto me. I make an effort to get up myself. About halfway, my thigh cramps again. Toni helps me the rest of the way. I take her other hand into mine, giving her the reassurance I’ve given Sabrina time and time again. “Let me at least watch over the place, just for a few hours while you’re out.” 

“Aren’t you working at the diner, though?” She’s got a point. I’ve skipped so much work to look after Sabrina. I can’t just bail out on Pop without talking to him first.

“I can rearrange my schedule so I can wait tables later in the day.” I wave it off for now. “What matters is that you get the help you need. And making sure this place won’t crumble to the ground. You can trust me to take good care of it.” She’s still weary on this trust, and I expected that. I wouldn’t trust anyone else to run my bakery in Greendale. So, I follow up that comment with, “I run a bakery back home. I know how frustrating it is to run a one-person business without much help.” The talk of my own business makes me wonder. How is it doing without me there? Do my regular patrons run by and frown at the CLOSED sign at the door? Are my dry ingredients spoiling from not being used? I didn’t consider these elements in full detail before I left. And, to be honest, I haven’t given my shop much thought since I’ve been in Riverdale. Maybe because my life didn’t mean anything there. The bakery was a place of comfort, but it wasn’t home. It didn’t take away all the scars Hal gave me.

Toni nods her head in a leisurely manner. Her fingers squeeze mine. The corners of her mouth rise. “The protest’s starting around 10:30. Meet me here before that so I can hand over the keys. I don’t think it will last the whole day, but either way, I should return before 4 or 5 so I can do the books. Does that sound good?” She glows when she speaks, her confidence is growing. She now realizes that her cause isn’t lost. That she’s got allies. She will win back what the world owes her. If it boiled down to me and Toni coming out of this war with a happy ending on the other side, I’d choose for Toni to have it over me. The way I’d let Sabrina.

Sabrina….why haven’t I heard from her all day? Why haven’t I talked to her? The daunting truth crashes over me like a tsunami. It causes my thigh to grow irritated against my jeans. I have to release one of her hands so I can grip onto the counter. So I don’t collapse in front of her. Toni raises a brow at me. She’s catching on that my leg is not in the state it should be.

“What have you used to heal that thing?” I exhale out another wave of irritation. I attempt to stand up straighter.

“Aloe vera. Ibuprofen.” I answer half-correctly. I say half only so I don’t tell her about Blue. So I don’t admit that I can’t perform that spell in accuracy without Hiram. So I can’t admit that I need him, or anyone else. 

Toni scoffs, followed with laughter. “No wonder - those won’t do shit to heal it. You need actual potions. Real herbs. I’ve got stuff in the back that you can take for that.” She glances down at my arm. I suddenly remember the wound on my arm. The first attack Hal made when I thought I was safe. But maybe I’ve never been safe. If he could attack me in the middle of the night, when I’m hallucinating, how can I ever protect Sabrina? How can I protect anyone?

A dull ache forms in my forehead. My free hand brings my fingertips to the area. By now, the aches are not random occurrences. He’s out for the hunt. But who? Who could he go after now? Chuck Clayton got a bad rep from mistreating those girls, including Hiram’s daughter. Midge Klump bullied Sabrina and her cheermates. Who is next on the chopping block?

I hear him speaking, it comes out as a whisper. He’s conversing with someone. He’s asking for a name. Could he be speaking to his new witch?  _ Give me a name _ , he begs. The presentation of his behavior is all too familiar. He fell on his hands and knees for me to send him off on his next mission, to find his next prey. That all happened towards the end, before he left that imprint on my tattoo, before he got to Hermione. But it wasn’t an act of desperation. It was a warning sign. He didn’t need me to ground him. He had enough of my magic to fuel him to the end. And when he finished, he would have come for me last.

Maybe that’s why Hiram and I couldn’t find any logs on previous witches living in this town. Most of them fled before the Reaper Massacre, but before that, none made it long to protect Riverdale. Hal was here from the beginning. He wouldn’t want those witches to take any credit for his kills. He lured them out of the shadows for their power, and when he grew tired of them, when he drained enough out of them, the rampaging finale began, ending with a witch. That’s why no witches besides me and Hiram stayed. Maybe that’s why my mother left me behind all those years ago.

It’s a wild theory. It’s outlandish, I’ll admit. Otherwise, how could Hal have allowed me to get away? Why am I living to sing the songs of the fallen? Why else would my mother abandon me to fend for myself? But it’s a possible explanation. If this is Hal speaking to his new witch, if this act of helpfulness is how it sounds…..this could be the beginning of the end. Again.

The imprint on my thigh sizzles. I wince at its cry for mercy. I want to tap into this conversation. I need to know who Hal is hunting for, so I can warn them. So I can prevent one more person from dying. But I need to preserve my power. I need to get my leg healed. I shut out his whispers and return my attention to Toni. “Alright. What have you got?”

XXXXXXXX

**SABRINA**

Cold air rattles my bones. The heat from my cider does nothing to help warm my body up. I still see the bold red from Jughead’s truck. 

**_STOP DIGGING_ **

It left us both petrified, even after I used magic to remove the stains, even after we went through a car wash to get the rest off. Jughead and I both retreated back to the trailer park, muttering a quiet good night before we went our separate ways. Despite a warm shower, my meal with Ali, with the lies I fabricated about my day, the message kept flashing in my mind. 

**_STOP DIGGING_ **

How did Salem know where Jughead and I were? How could V allow him to commit such a thing? I thought she was my friend. She promised me she’d keep him out of trouble. She would have told me if something went wrong. Wouldn’t she? 

**_STOP DIGGING_ **

I’ve been staring off into the distance while Jughead types away at his laptop in my trailer. His parents and younger sister took off earlier this morning, right around the time Ali left. We haven’t talked much about the article, I think we both made a silent agreement to not mention it publicly, in case Salem was wandering town nearby. He came over to check in on me, to make small talk, which I was more than fine with. I got ahead on school work, and he pecked away with pointy fingers. The day trickled on, and around noon, the Joneses and Ali came back, but a little worse for wear. Jughead’s mom made us stay away due to the state Mister Jones was in. I wanted to ask Ali, or even Jellybean, what happened. If Mister Jones got attacked again. But I never got a chance. Ali, Jellybean, and, to my surprise, Mister Lodge, remained inside the Jones’s trailer. So, Jughead and I just wound up in here, alone with unspoken fears for the future of the Blue and Gold. With my anger towards Salem. With my concern for Ali, and for V.

I hear a car starting from outside. I peel back the little curtain covering the window over our couch. The same bright red car that Jughead and I passed only yesterday pulls out of the trailer park. It’s the same vehicle V and I took when we saw Chuck. It takes me a minute to register who could be in that car, but the blonde hair of whoever is in that passenger’s seat next to Mister Lodge is all too familiar. There goes my chance of getting to ask Ali about….

Jughead taps my shoulder. “Did my dad come back out?”

I shake my head at him with a frown. “Just Ali and Mister Lodge leaving.” I sigh and flop back down further into the couch. Perhaps they’re heading out to find who left Mister Jones rattled to the bone. Or they could be getting help from Sheriff Keller. Or maybe they decided to attend one of the protests. But what if they run into Salem? Would Ali know….

I glance down at what Jughead has open on his laptop screen. A good amount of the article rests in a word document. The little black line waiting for more words to come flashes. His fingertips hover over the upper letters of his keyboard. Air ripples out of his lips. It takes me a moment to see the doubt in his eyes. 

“Maybe I should hold off on posting this article.” he chokes up. He sounds broken and lost. I’m getting worried about him. I rotate around and prop my elbow on the top part of the couch as he expresses the anxiety he’s feeling. “I mean….could the kids, or some other creep in town, go after Moose, or any of Midge or Chuck’s family members if we publish this?”

“They won’t.” I tell him. “Because if Salem tries anything, I’ll place a hex that will shake his little fury body for days.”

Jughead chuckles at my comment. “Oh, I know we can handle Salem.” I don’t say this out loud, but my mind screams, I don’t really know if we can. I let him continue, “It’s everyone else. People we wouldn’t expect to ensue chaos. Hell, if anyone tried to blame this all on the Serpents….” 

His voice drops unexpectedly. That’s odd. I thought he didn’t care about the Serpents, despite his parents’ affiliation. From every conversation I’ve had with him regarding the topic, he hasn't expressed any sympathies for the organization. He knows the ins and outs of what his parents face with their peers. He knows the rumors surrounding where they live. What changed all of that?

I think he’s picked up on my curiosity, because he fills in the gaps. “I know what everyone’s saying about the Jingle Jangle. They think the Serpents are dealing it.”

“V told me about that.” I confess. His eyes widen at me, waiting for context to my sudden bluntness. I sigh, “Moose and Midge were taking it in the car right before Salem got to them. I don’t know how they were able to get a hold of it. And I don’t think they got it from the Serpents.” 

Jughead swipes his hand down his chin. “Dealers at school, most likely.” he states in a quieter tone. I see the hurt in his eyes increasing. He’s blaming himself for actions he, his Serpent friends, or his family cannot control. The way I couldn’t control the ghosts of my parents telling me to run on the night of my birthday.

“Doesn’t matter,” he rests his palms firmly against the keyboard, “everyone will find a way to blame the Southside. Or anyone who doesn’t fit the views of the Blossoms or their peers. The town is already at war with itself.” He takes a moment to let out a long sigh. Then, he gestures to the screen with his fingers flexed out. “And this article could make the war worse. All because we went to a house and found a bloodthirsty demon-cat….”

His voice trails off, but my mind starts grinding its gears. The chaos only began when I pulled Salem’s spirit out from the shadows of that house. No one died until he was with me. Until the Reaper showed up. Until this Hal Cooper made a presence.

It hits me. Rose Blossom didn’t have that memory of her daughter mentioning the new boy. And Salem wasn’t just randomly in that house. Someone must have left him there intentionally.

Ask your Aunt Ali, the stranger over the Blossom girl told me. I do want to ask her, but someone else has what I’m looking for.  _ Something _ is causing Riverdale to fall apart. And if anyone would know why….it’s Salem.

I grip Jughead’s arm, my nails digging into the upper portion. “Don’t delete the article just yet.” I tell him. Jughead looks at me all baffled. A brow raises. His lips are about to ask what I’m doing. I beat him to the questioning. “I think I found a way to keep the article in without the bloodshed. Can you keep an eye on the door for me?”

He hesitates for a moment, then he nods. “Okay.” I let go so Jughead can rise up from the couch. He glances out the little window at the top of the door. I quickly slide off from the cushions, resting my back against the couch as I go into a crossed-leg seat. I only have one chance to reach out to Salem without physically placing myself in his destructive path. He could be anywhere for all I know, either with V or on the prowl for his next victim. And if he caught on that something was not right about my appearance….

At home, we call it the Astral Projection Spell. It’s a way for a witch to travel outside their physical body to appear in another place, in spiritual form. Normally, you’d use candles, a map, and a precise location. But since I thought of performing this spell last minute, I wouldn’t have time to collect what I need. And I’ll admit, I am a bit nervous. I’ve only heard dark stories of what has gone wrong when other witches performed the spell in the past. Ambrose attempted to do it once while on break at the morgue to get coffee with a potential partner. However, the spell didn’t last long. These bird-like creatures called psychopomps appeared, causing the astral projection to collapse. Psychopomps exist to carry spirits to the after life. So that means, only the dead can really perform this spell, not living witches. And here I am, about to wing it for the first time. Aunties would be livid if they found out.

“Coast is clear.” Jughead whispers to me from across the way. I give him a nod accompanied with a thumbs up. Once I return to a still, motionless state, I close my eyes. I think of the places Salem would normally go. The woods, after he killed Chuck and injured Moose. Riverdale High, after he strung Midge’s body up for the world to bare witness. V’s residence, the quiet and comfort of Pembrooke.

I inhale, then exhale. My bones jitter under my flesh. But I don’t have time to stay afraid. I have to be ready.

So I speak.

_ Vola anima per aeterna. _

I repeat the words over and over, the spell luring my spirit awake. I become lost in the rhythm of this lullaby. The elements of my spirit unlatch themselves from my bones, my organs, my own mouth. One moment, I’m in the living room, chanting away at this spell. Next, I’ve disconnected, body and soul, looking for my familiar.

My projected spirit ends up in the streets downtown. It takes me a minute to register where I ended up. Then I see the library capturing the glare of the sun beginning to set. Christmas lights twinkle in some of the small businesses along the street. The wind picks up, and yet, I’m not affected by it. From the distance of where my projection stands, I can vaguely make out the one building I wanted to set my sights on. The one floor I know my subject resides. The one room….

A noise emerges from the ground below. I glance down to find a small, black figure moving at the corner of my eye. It disappears into an alley between Pembrooke and the establishment next door. I only now understand that the noise was not from the cars, or the earth itself. It was a meow.

“Salem!”

I chase after the figure, not slowing down to look out for psychopomps. I kick myself mentally for not warning Jughead on the presence of them. How else will I be able to recognize that it’s time to go? I really didn’t think about this plan all the way through. And I thought Ambrose was more of the risk taker in the family.

But I don’t have time to go back and restart this experiment. My projected feet lead me into the alley way. I slow down, not seeing any signs of my familiar. The only light source of this alley are the stringed lights above. I’m tempted to run up to Pembrooke, to find V, to have her help me reason with him. But I can’t involve V in this, more than I already have. I’m the reason we went to get revenge on Chuck. I almost risked her place in the Vixens. My fight with Salem is my fight, and my fight alone. I call out his name again, “SALEM!” I’m greeted with empty wind and humming lights. He couldn’t have gone that far….

A chuckle ripples through the air. I whip around to hunt down the source. Nothing. My mind must be playing tricks on me. Then I feel his tail glide across my shin. The sensation makes me nauseous. I cover my mouth and glance down. Salem meows. 

“I knew you wouldn’t stay away forever.” he boasts. “You need me. That’s why I took the trip downstairs.” His attitude radiates cockiness. I have to bite my tongue from hexing him right there. I have to stay in control while getting my point across.

I maintain my cool when I speak. “I’m not here for a reunion, Salem. We need to talk about what you left on Jughead’s car.”

“Oh, that?” he tries to come off innocent, when I know by now it means nothing. “Come on, Sabrina. You know I would never do anything to lead you into harm. But that boy, however….he’s asking to be thrown into jail or wind up in a grave six feet under. He is a liability, Sabrina.”

“Is that the reason you killed Midge? And Chuck?” I ask, point blank. He stops pacing the alleyway, glaring up at me. The mentioning of their deaths still bugs me, I brought them on myself. But this meeting can be one step closer to bringing them justice in the after life. With a shaky voice, I pester him further. “Will you just continue to take out anyone that poses as a liability to me and V? Where is she, anyway?”

He begins his pacing again, taking a long time to answer the question. The silence starts to drive me crazy. Why did V take so long to respond back? Why haven’t I seen her since the oncoming of my illness? Why is Salem forbidding me from seeing my friend?

Eventually, he responds. “She’s resting. Don’t worry, I haven’t placed her into any harm, Miss Spellman. We do miss you though. I miss the dynamic of the three of us as a team!” I could gag. He’s trying to lure me back in with typical emotional tethers. In a way, it sounds like he’s trying to gaslight me. Saying that I’m crazy for breaking up the supposed dynamic he claims V and I have with him. And if I’m not with them, I’m against them.

V would never fall for that. She was just as afraid as me the nights of Chuck and Midge. While she believed their ultimate demises were eventually justified, she could not grasp the concept of hurting them. Not the way Salem hurt them. To me, that’s not a dynamic. It is no longer a mutual relationship of familiar and familiar. The equal connection disappeared before Salem possessed Midge. It’s now a fight over who is the master and who is the servant.

That’s what I mention when I speak next. “How exactly is going out for blood independently a strong dynamic? You don’t care about my well-being, or V’s. You only act out of your own interest. You use our weak points to make us demand for a pound of flesh where you make us believe we were wronged. If you really cared about me Salem, why did you give me that seizure? Why did you threaten Jughead about the Reaper article?”

“We agreed that the boy was trouble. Did. We. Not?” His temper changes suddenly, indicating more of his truer emotions. Yet, I can’t trust anything coming out of his mouth. Salem plants his paws into the brick, straightening his front legs. He looks as if he could hiss at me. “And for the record, Sabrina….I  _ do  _ care about your wellbeing. Everything I have done thus far has been to  _ protect you _ . It’s worthless souls like Midge Klump and Jughead Jones that are dampening your potential! You’re wasting time chasing ghosts and uncovering truths that must be left alone!”

I wobble backwards a step or two. The last part of his speech startles me.  _ Uncovering truths that must be left alone _ …. What the heaven does that mean? Does Salem have information on the Reaper, or maybe he had affiliations with the killer? Whatever it is, he doesn’t want me or Jughead to release the past onto the world. He doesn’t want his own behaviors to be brought to light.

Of course. Why else would he be chastising me? He’s acting only for himself, to save his own skin.

As I’m about to raise the manner, I notice how he loosens his stance. The pacing starts again, coming closer and closer to me. “But I could spare you and your Southside friend the trouble. I’ll drop my threats….for a fair price, of course.” The shift of his tone is unsettling, but why am I acting surprised? He demands blood. Pay up and you get to walk free. It makes me queasy. I glance around the alleyway. No signs of psychopomps, not yet. Maybe I can get away with negotiating for Jughead’s article without capturing the interest of the dead.

Without making eye contact, I ask, “What’s your boon, Salem?” He delays his response by chuckling. To him, it’s amusing for me to fall to his command. 

“A name.” he says. “One name that you want to have disappear from the face of the earth. Because, you and I both know that you have personal vendettas you seek to enact on more people than just Midge Klump and Chuck Clayton. Give me a name, Sabrina….just one name.”

A part of me wants to give in, to have a name slip from my lips. It’s frightening, because I know deep down he is right. There’s still too many faces I never want to lay eyes on again. Too many of my own peers I can never forgive, or cannot bring myself to forgive for the time being. Aunties. Prudence and the Weird Sisters. Father Blackwood. Satan himself. The whole world, for all I care. The world ripped my parents away from me. The world attempted for me to follow the same unfortunate path as my father. The world forced me to flee here, to Riverdale, where kids are dying, V is sick, and Ali is still depressed. If it were up to me, I could wipe out everyone and start the world over. It could just be me, and Harvey, and Roz, and Suzie, and Ambrose, and V and Jughead, Ali….

I have to stop my train of thought. No…. Ali wouldn’t wish for me to fall victim to this anger. She told me something about my emotions. She taught me to honor them and move on. I’ve let too much negativity guide my recent choice of actions. Fear caused me to flee from the Baptism. Hurt led me to avenge V and go after Chuck. Guilt drove me to grant Salem permission to slaughter Midge. Malice. Remorse. All of these, and then some. I let them all dictate how to live my life. Not anymore. I have to change for the better. I have to avenge the fallen, to raise their voices and bring them justice. I have to expose the real monsters, like Salem, like this Hal Cooper….

Rose’s daughter mentioned his name, and the next day, Thornhill fell victim to the flames, only hours apart from the car accident involving V’s mother. I saw her, and the red-head girl, and that boy with the glasses. Salem didn’t confirm or deny his connection to them, but they were all there. He projected them to appear in my dream. So if he took part in hurting those kids, then he does know about my person of interest.

“Who’s Hal Cooper?” I ask. I’m tempted to fire more prompts, but I have no desire to throw words into Salem’s mouth. The truth needs to come from him, and no one else. Salem stops pacing at the sound of this name. His head tilts up more to the sky, never breaking eye contact with me. The color of his irises shifts from that ice blue to cloudy grey. Black lines come and go like waves. Shame hides in this silence. Anger brews.

Salem releases a menacing growl. “The name means nothing to me.” He pranes back to the back doors of Pembrooke, leaving me standing dumbfounded in the middle of the alleyway. “And  _ not _ what I’m looking for!” he adds in for good measure. I have a feeling he’s avoiding my question, either because Hal Cooper has already died, or….for whatever reason, Salem worked with him. Actually, my internal instincts suspect that this mystery man might be the reason Salem ended up in that house.

I march over closer to where he now rests. “Well, sorry, Salem, but that’s the only name I will give you. And instead of avoiding me, maybe you could explain why Hal Cooper is not your desired answer!”

“I told you it means  _ nothing _ !” he hisses. What is his deal? Why does this one name bother him so much? I want to fight back, my heart wants to unveil this hidden truth, but my head recognizes that it may not be a good time. Besides, Salem is beginning to step out to me, paw by paw, emphasizing his argument with authority. “You will give me a name, Sabrina. A real, living person. I will not ask this of you again, unless you do want to wish that Serpent boy farewell….”

My limbs are tempted to cower back, to shrink myself, to end this projection once and for all. But I have to stand my ground. I need to win this, for Jughead and everyone else. I curl my hands into fists, taking careful breaths as if they were my last. “I’m not playing this game with you, Salem. You’re not doing this to help me. You’re only doing it for yourself. And you have, from the beginning.”

“You foolish girl.” he mocks me. “Do you not see the level at which your witchcraft is growing because of me? I make you stronger. I make Miss Lodge stronger!” One thought lingers in my brain, which I’m terrified to voice out loud.  _ You call draining me of my magic to kill Midge strengthening me? I’m sick because of you, not stronger.  _

And I think I am feeling sick again. Fatigue washes over me. Liquid seeps out of my brain and through my sinuses. My limbs ride with the wind. I start to wonder if Salem is deliberately causing a new wave of sickness in me to bend me to his will. But my presence is only a projection, so he cannot harm me that much. Then I realize these sudden occurrences are not because of Salem.

Birdlike creatures fly in, one by one, to sit on the wires holding up the street lights. Their red and black feathers glow under the yellow light. Their little beady eyes glare at me, their beaks ready to reveal an appetite for another soul.

_ Psychopomps. _

I begin to inch away from Salem, and from these newcomers, without risking my life. “You have no right to claim yourself as the source to my strength. I make my own strength. Me and....” I have to stop myself from mentioning V. For all I know, he could turn around and kill her, just to prove his point. The psychopomps hobble down the wire, closer to me. I have to speed up my process. “I don’t need you anymore, Salem. People will find out what we did, what  _ you _ made me do. And if it means I go forth and publish that article, then so be it!”

One of the psychopomps chirps, releasing a noise that matches a banshee screech. I have to cover my ears to protect my eardrums. Salem looks up to the wires, finally noticing the psychopomps. He returns his gaze to me. “You’re making a mistake, Sabrina.” he says in a sing-songy tone. He steps towards me, and the psychopomps follow in his path. Like he’s leading the pack and giving them his blessing to devour me.

I back away more and more. My controlled state is traded for panic. A wet substance drips out of my nostrils, from my eardrums. Symptoms of an astral projection that has gone on for too long. Forget negotiating. I have to leave before I get dragged to literal Hell. 

I glance back and forth between the hungry psychopomps and my diabolical maniac of a familiar. “The only mistake I made was summoning you from that house!” I shout at him. Control of the situation slips from my fingertips. My survival becomes a priority. My words string together, losing meaning in the rambling. “I won’t let you dictate who lives and who dies! I’ll let them all know what you did to me, and to those kids because they deserve better! This town deserves better! Even Rose Blossom---”

The name falls from my lips before I register what I just did. My hands fly up to my mouth, but I already know it’s too late. I gave Salem his name.

A low chuckle emerges between his fangs. His eyes take on that dark color. “See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” I’m at a loss of words. Rose Blossom is going to die, and I won’t be able to save her. Not if these psychopomps drag me to the front doors of Hell. Tears leave my eyes. Blood stains my palms

“Salem…” I plead. “Salem, don’t you dare….”

But my time for reasoning with him has ended. Salem begins to morph, his size growing from the small feline shape to…. My size. The size he grew to when he killed Chuck. “You said it yourself, Sabrina. Maybe I am doing this for myself.” The nightmarish blue eyes within the shape of nothingness tower over me, blocking the psychopomps from my view. I see a flash of his fangs, a grin. “But I ought to thank you. I haven’t had a good meal in days.”

With that, the eyes and the fangs disappear. The shape flies to the other end of the alleyway.

“SALEM, NO!”

My screams do nothing to bring Salem back. Instead, they only draw more attention from the psychopomps. The barrier keeping me from them fades. Nothing will keep them from attacking me now. One by one, they fly off the wires, swooping low to my height. I straggle back, tears and blood down my face. Is this how I will say goodbye? With my lifeless body unable to stir in the trailer parks, and my soul ripped to shreds by these birds? At this point, it doesn’t matter what I do or how much longer I keep fighting. I will never be free of the Path of Night. And Salem will get away with murder.

The psychopomps fly into my view. I know what will happen, and yet, I still find myself screaming for help. For mercy. But no matter how much I scream, I know the bitter truth. No one will come save the ruined Teenage Witch. Not even Aunt Ali.

Just as I’m about to accept my fate, something grabs at my shoulder from behind. The talons of the psychopomps barely graze the flesh on my face as I’m pulled out of the alleyway, away from the cold, back to….the trailer. Shock runs through me. I blink a few times to register where I am. The warm lights of my trailer bring me familiarity. The twitching of my limbs and my eyeballs reminds me that I’m alive. And the hand….

I look over to find Jughead grabbing onto my shoulders in panic. “What happened? What did he say?”

The first feeling that embraces me is nausea. I free myself from Jughead’s hold and rise. I almost collapse to the floor from the instant rush, but whatever wants to come out of me will not wait for me to regain my balance. I feel as if anything I fought to keep in my stomach all day could emerge out of my mouth. Yet, all that comes out is a….a glump of black, blood red, and dark purple swirled in a horrific fashion. I struggle to breathe with the blood coming out of my nose and my ears. I can feel bird feathers tickling me everywhere. I never want to perform an Astral Projection again, and not just because of the fear of getting attacked by demonic birds….

“Hey, you should sit down.” Jughead is at my side, guiding me to the little kitchen table. When I finally get off my feet, my emotions take order. I break out into sobs, wrapping my arms around my abdomen. Blood drips onto the table. I can’t go back and change it. Rose Blossom will die, and it will be my fault. Everything that’s happened since I’ve shown up is my fault. Out of grief and frustration, I slam my fists on the table and scream. My fingertips go to my hair, digging into my scalp. I stay like this for a minute or two, only until Jughead peels my hands away from my head. He strokes my forearms as he asks me to breathe. I’m tired of fighting and throwing a tantrum, so I just follow his command. When I can breathe normally again, I make myself tell him what went wrong.

“He’s going to kill Rose Blossom.” I sniffle. Jughead blinks at me, not absorbing my statement. Then, it hits him. I continue to explain, “He tried to make me give him a name, and I refused. Well, I thought I did, then Rose’s name slipped out. And now….and now….” I stutter on words for a good amount of time. Eventually, I give up. My sobs seek another release, but I keep these new tears back and focus on my breathing. My grounding.

Jughead mutters something to himself. He stays quiet for a second, then he makes a run for the living room. I watch him dig for something, cursing as he stubs his toe against the couch. I don’t understand what he’s searching for, then I finally see the phone in his hands. Jughead dials a number and waits for the call to transfer.

“We gotta tell Joaquin. We gotta warn him, and the people at the Sisters. They’ll keep her safe.” He paces back and forth in the living room, waiting for Joaquin to pick up. A new fear enters my brain. Joaquin. Those nurses. What if Salem attacks them too? Will they fail to act in saving Rose? I suddenly remember the last thing Salem said before he vanished into thin air.

_ I haven’t had a good meal in days. _

The message could mean a lot of things. First, V has not let him go out for a kill, which if it’s true, I applaud her for. So he would be bloodthirsty and perfectly fine with murdering innocent people if they ended up in his way. Second, he has wandered through town looking for another victim, but none have suited his fancy. Last, with the civil unrest exposing Riverdale for its dark past, Salem cannot kill at random and make a show of it. He craves attention, but on his terms. He will only display the corpses once he finishes playing with his food. And that is what he will do to Rose. And maybe Joaquin. Even….

Jughead slams his phone on the table. I now notice that he is hyperventilating. “He won’t pick up. No one at the Sisters will.” He slouches into the chair adjacent from me, despair washing over him. Fingertips patter on the table. Insides of cheeks find homes in between teeth. Jughead grabs for his beanie and slides it off his head, leaving it on the table. This is the first time I think I’ve seen Jughead without his beanie on. Why?

He turns to me and gives me a sorrow grin. “We’re out of luck….aren’t we, Teenage Witch?” I hate hearing my friend so broken, like he is to blame for the disaster. He’s not. I caused this, not Jughead, or V, or anyone else. I break things and create storms. Jughead just relays the message. He is the hermit, telling a lost tale for those willing to hear….

The article. What will come of the article? Is it too late to back out? I wound up nowhere in that argument with Salem. He ignored it and jumped straight to his request for bloodshed. My attempt of asking him about Hal Cooper backfired. Perhaps I am wasting my time running around with Jughead and deriving conspiracy theories. Maybe dead is better after all.

But someone has to know about Hal Cooper. Someone would feel inspired to piece together the truth about the Conways, and the other Reaper victims. Someone can bring justice to the dead kids from Ali’s class. And to Chuck and Midge. I might not be able to come my trial, and maybe not Jughead if Salem targets him next. But someone can see the article and finish what we started. 

My forearms gently make contact with the table. Blood dries on the little section above my upper lip. I can taste the metallic of the liquid in my saliva. I slowly bring my gaze to Jughead. Without hesitating a moment further, I tell him, “Publish it.”

He straightens up in his seat, bewildered. “Wh….what?”

“Publish the article, Jughead. Let all of Riverdale know what I brought out of the Conway House.” Jughead has to process my words for a second. He’s still confused, and he goes to ask me something, I’m guessing about if Salem still threatens to keep us silent. But I interject, “It doesn’t matter! No matter what we do to accommodate for him, or to compromise, he won’t stop killing. He never will. The only way we win is if we expose him. He’ll have no choice but to own up to what he’s done.”

Jughead no longer appears confused by my proposal. In fact, he’s scheming over how to go about this course of action. He curls one set of his fingers around his beanie, tapping on the table with the other set. He comes to a conclusion. “So, what I’m hearing you say is….. We lure him out of the shadows with this article, and….you kill him?”

I shrug. “Something like that.” I confess, I haven’t mapped out the whole plan yet, since I just came up with the idea. But now, killing Salem might be the only option I have left to protect everyone in Riverdale, including Ali. But I’ll need to act smart. Jughead and I need to get this article out to the public in a timely manner, one where we can throw Salem off his guard. And I need time to get through to V on everything, to see if she can use her condition to help me. I still have to wonder though…..would it be safe to tell Ali now about Salem? Or should I wait until Salem is gone for good and we’re back in the comfort of Greendale? If I go back to Greendale….

_ And what if I don't?  _ The last question lingers in the back of my brain. What if I, or V, or Ali or Mister Lodge, fail to stop Salem? Then Chuck and Midge died for nothing. Then Rose Blossom is another martyr, just like the Conways. That doesn’t leave me with many options. I doubt Aunties will have the emotional tether to avenge my death after the stunt I pulled back home. Ambrose can’t leave the Mortuary anyways, so he’s not a contender. Who does that leave me with…. Jughead. The Joneses. The Serpents. Jughead promised to help me. His parents would be devastated if Ali or I died. I certainly know Jughead’s sister would mourn for her. Mister Lodge too. But Jughead…..

Jughead doesn’t look like a fighter. His booksmart persona dominates any physical characteristics that could solidify my choice. But Jughead has been at my side since I told him everything. I could ask Archie, or Moose, but they wouldn’t get it. They’d never understand. But Jughead does. And right now….I trust him to carry out my dying wish.

“Will you promise me something, Jughead?”

“Depends on what I’m promising to do.” he cracks the joke, not getting how serious I am about this. Soon, he picks up on my tone. He recognizes why it’s familiar to him. “You were going to ask me a favor back at the Sisters. You asked me something about my demonology books, and if I needed any.” I nod my head, confirming his thought process. Now he gets it.

“Alright, Teenage Witch, what do I have to do?”

I sit on my response for a moment, afraid of giving this execution. I never wanted it to come down to me against Salem. We were supposed to be partners, not enemies. But he tricked me into killing my classmates. He’s probably tricked other witches before me. It ends now. No other witch will ever bare what I did.

I lift my head high, channeling the courage I mustered against the Church. Against every witch that dared to call me a coward. I tell Jughead, “If I don’t make it, and if V can’t stop him either…..finish him, Jughead. Do you understand? I want you to kill Salem.”

XXXXXXXX

**_End of Chapter Three_ **


	5. Violent Delights, Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY HI HELLO
> 
> Yes, I'm alive! This chapter is a whirlwind, so I kinda had to split it up into two parts. I'll be posting the second half of the chapter later on, so don't freak out. Thank you all for the constant love and support! Happy reading!

**ALICE**

I can’t sleep. Nausea and panic steer my course, disrupting me when I think I’m safe. He killed again. I felt it after leaving Toni’s shop. I stumbled along that street back to the trailer park holding back vomit, cupping blood from my nose into my hand. I couldn’t make out where he went. All I could see was white marble and stained glass windows. A church? Why there? Who did he go after?

I kick myself for sending Hiram away. I should have asked him to stay with me, just until I could get back up on my feet. But he has Veronica and that cat to worry about. And Gladys and FP are dealing with the aftermath of the seance. Jellybean…..no, don’t drag the girl into this. Or Sabrina. Sabrina….

When I came back, she looked just as shaken up as me. FP and Gladys’s son was with her, typing away on his laptop. I took a long look at her to see what was wrong. Her nose bled the same way mine did. Her eyes were bloodshot, like mine. She hasn’t fully recovered from her illness, I have to remind myself of that. But these symptoms….it’s an odd correlation. And an odd sense of timing. Did she sense this new attack too? By having that seizure, did she gain a second sight? No….no I got my second sight from him. My connection to him leaves me rendered and helpless as I watch him play with his food. But things are changing in Riverdale. Sabrina is another witch that will feel the aftermath. Toni sees him too, but in fragments. So could this mean…..can Sabrina now see Hal?

I don’t want to rouse myself again. It’s almost 5 in the morning, and I have been tossing and turning all night. When the Jones boy returned to his home trailer, Sabrina and I quietly cleaned ourselves up and sat on the couch for a long time. We didn’t say much to each other. I was still processing the seance, and figuring out how to aid Toni in her fight for justice. As for Sabrina….something must have occurred, for Jughead fumbled on words when I asked him about her state. Even hours later, the image of that boy typing away has me thinking. What was he writing about?

After a few minutes of laying on my back, failing to fall back asleep, I throw the covers off and leave the bed. Sabrina has her chin tucked into her shoulder farthest away from me. Every once in a while, it will jerk, then fall still. Another nightmare? My brain’s too fogged up to attempt to read her mind, and even then, it would be an invasion of her privacy. I grab my boots and slip out of the bedroom, leaving the girl hopefully in peace.

Bitter cold shocks my senses when I walk out the front door. My nightgown doesn’t do much to protect what’s exposed of my legs from the wintery weather. Snow crunches under my boots when I walk down the steps. I’m exhausted by the time I reach the last step. My leg’s acting up again, despite the remedies I used, the ones Toni gave me. I think about her and her shop. Will anyone with Uktena blood come to her aid and continue her work if she falls in this war? Could Gladys or I rally a troop together to fight in her name? No, I’m overthinking this. Toni’s fight is with the Serpents, my fight is with Hal. If the two mingle, though…. If Hal bends the Serpents to his will, leaving us both defenseless….

_Stop it, Alice. Nothing will happen to her, or Sabrina. Calm down._ Sometimes I hate how my brain jumps to the worst conclusions before I can scrape together a formal plan. And now my leg is cramping again. Well, I’m not in a rush, so I sit down on the final step, extending out my bad leg. I think I'm getting the hang of performing Blue on myself. My delivery still isn’t perfect, and when I think of the color blue, it feels forced. Like I’m purposefully making the color appear. My version of the spell functions, but it’s not perfection. But hey, how can it be? No one can perform this spell like Hiram. 

This goes on for a while longer until I hear the quick trotting of feet, the ruff of a dog. I open my eyes to find the Jones’s sheep dog waddle over to me, greeting me with sloppy kisses. “Hi, buddy.” I giggle. Hot Dog wags his tail excitedly when I ruffle through his fur. How did this little fella know to come to me? “Come on, let’s go find your family.” I whisper, rising up from my place. Hot Dog stays glued to my heels as I begin to head over to the Jones’s trailer. I barely make it two steps before I stop in my tracks. FP meanders over in my direction, hands shoved into his flannel jacket, his skin looking pale. He looks up at me with hazy eyes.

“Can’t sleep?” I ask him.

“Not a lot of good dreams.” he says with a nod.

I huff. “Likewise.” I tell him, not really wanting to admit the details of last night. I obviously need to let the Joneses in on my new vision. But it can wait for another time, when we’re all more awake.

He whistles for Hot Dog to join him at his side. He begins to follow an imaginary path buried in the snow away from the trailers. He barely makes it a few steps before he looks back at me. I stand there, not understanding at first, but I catch on pretty quick. He wants me to walk with him. He needs a friendly face to discuss the bad dreams with. I don’t fight back. I join my friend, and we begin our little journey.

We stay silent for the first handful of minutes, not really sure how to carry the conversation. But I can tell in the way FP stares at the ground, keeping one hand hovering over Hot Dog as he trots by his side, that he hasn’t fully recovered from the seance. I don’t expect him to bounce back to normal any time soon. Toni said so herself. _Having a dead spirit roaming in your mind like that doesn’t go away overnight._ Is this anything like what FP went through when he recovered from his alcoholism? A phantom itch begging to be relieved through pain or numbing. Whichever took care of the job fastest. A new thought comes to me, one that frightens me, and maybe Gladys too. Will this seance spark FP to break his sobriety and start drinking again?

“I felt cold last night.” he speaks, ending our prolonged silence. “Didn’t help that it’s already winter, but….I felt colder than usual. No matter how many blankets and warm clothes Gladys and the kids threw on, I couldn’t stop shivering. I heard things too. Whispering, almost. I couldn’t tell if it was Gladys talking to Jug or JB, or if it….” His voice trails off. I notice his hand tilting back and forth in the air. The sobriety bracelet gleams, picking up little traces of brightness. Hot Dog whimpers next to him. The dog nuzzles his nose into FP’s leg, a little signal to let him know that he’s not alone. FP stops walking, which makes me stop. He allows for his hand to plant on top of Hot Dog’s fur, running his fingers through it. Something new occurs, so fast I almost miss it. But I still see it. FP cracking a smile. 

“Kinda glad this fella was with me last night.” he says lightheartedly. “Most nights, he’s curled up with JB, but last night, he wedged himself between me and Gladys. Had his head on my chest, with my arm over him. It was quite adorable.” I find myself chuckling at the image. My own voice sounds deep, it makes me a bit nervous. Well, I’m at least glad FP could get through the first night post-seance without major issues. But it doesn’t guarantee anything later down the road. Not with Hal still on the loose.

FP uses his thumb to massage the area by Hot Dog’s ear. “Yeah, don’t know what I’d do without him. Kept waking up in the middle of the night, but he licked my face, and it helped me go back to sleep. Up until now, I guess.” His smile fades. His petting of Hot Dog ceases. Should I dare to ask him what he saw in those dreams? Or would that trigger unhappy emotions? The soreness on my throat, where Louis made FP grab me, throbs. I reach for my neck out of instinct, rubbing at the spot. I feel my neck rise and fall when I swallow down building saliva. I decide to just keep my mouth shut, to not blurt out the questions lingering on my tongue.

“You see him too?” he asks me. It throws me off guard. I have to glare into his eyes for a while to make sure if he’s asking out of pure sincerity. I put two and two together and realize that he’s not referring to Hal. He’s asking about seeing Louis.

I shake my head. “Just my usual dreams.” I reassure him, leaving out crucial details. I don’t want to leave FP more petrified with my explanations of the frequent visitors that haunt me nightly. Past events replaying in new scenarios. Him. And the new place. The new victim that I still can’t determine who it is. Hal would never touch a holy place in all his eternity. What changed?

I don’t realize that I’ve fazed out until FP taps me on the shoulder. “You okay, Ali?” I don’t say anything to him. I just let my gaze linger at his face. Hot Dog rushes to my free side and licks my hand. FP glances over his shoulder at our trail, using his head to gesture the other way. “We should head back. I can get some coffee brewing.” I shiver as the bitter wind kisses the exposed parts of my legs. The injury on my thigh hisses. I let FP guide us back over to the trailers, Hot Dog trailing by my side.

FP begins to ask a series of questions to make sense of my distracted state. “He attacked again, didn’t he?” I nod without saying anything. “You know who?” I shake my head.

“Only the location. Someplace white. Too clean.” I mumble. The images resurface, which almost reinstigates my nausea. I force myself to breathe, daisies and candles, shutting out the bad, half in disassociation. I hate it. I hate that feeling. But more than anything, I hate going through it when I’m with people I care about. I would rather shut them all out, I’d shut FP out right now if I had the chance. But then I remember what he said to me the night of Midge Klump’s death. That doomed pep rally with me learning of Hal being the Reaper. _I won’t lose you because of this. I can’t lose my best friend._

We stumble up the steps together, with me taking the lead. I step aside while FP fumbles with his house keys for a bit. After a minute, he finds the right one. He’s careful to open the door without making too much noise. I peer into the Jones’s little trailer. JB’s curled up on the couch. Jughead sleeps peacefully on one of the cots across from the girl, a book wedged into his arm. Gladys is probably asleep in the bedroom, unaware of what I saw last night.

I shouldn’t be here. I can’t just wake her and the kids up and vent about my newest findings. They already have too much on their plates, with FP and their finances. I make an attempt to stumble back, to bolt down the steps and back to my trailer, to crawl back into my bed and stay asleep until who knows when. I forget FP is nearby until he places a hand on my shoulder.

“Ali, it’s okay.” FP whispers.

“I know, I….” I pause for a second, examining how peaceful his children look. How lucky they are to not deal with frequent nightmares of the past. “I just don’t want to wake your kids up. Or Gladys.” I take my eyes off the kids and glance over my shoulder. My eyes land on the little patch of land with the makeshift fire pit, where I told Gladys and her family of my reaction to Sabrina’s cat.

“Why don’t I get a fire started? We can talk more out here.” I suggest to him, pointing out to the area. He looks a me a little weary at first, then he takes me up on my offer. He gently squeezes my shoulder before wandering into his home. When the door shuts, I urge for Hot Dog to follow me down to the fire pit. There’s some wood chunks piled to the side of the can, so I use a good amount of the pile to throw in. I rub my hands together and take a shaky breath. Then, I flick my hand over the pit. Flames emerge, lighting up the little patch of land on this early morning. Hot Dog begins to bark at the sudden sight. I have to shush him as I go to sit down in one of the chairs circling the fire pit. The heat from the fire reaches my skin, it feels nice to not worry about the cold. I rest my head back against the chair, and I close my eyes, letting the newfound comfort ease my guard.

Then a pair of arms wrap around me. I gasp, opening my eyes. It’s him, it has to be. He’s come back to finish me off once and for all. But I stop from jumping into self-defense mode, because something’s odd about this. The arms around me are not strong, nor are they adult sized. It’s a child hugging me.

“Dad says you had a bad dream.” her little voice sounds sleepy, but I end up laughing. I’m grateful that it’s just JB. Strands of her honey blonde hair tickle my face. I tilt my head to face the young girl as she bumps her forehead against mine. “So, I told him, _not under my watch_.”

“Aren’t you supposed to still be asleep right now, young lady?” I tease her.

“Ugh. You sound just like my parents.” she sasses back. I cackle as JB detaches herself from me, running over to one of the chairs. She struggles to carry it closer to where I sit, I assume so she can be next to me. The whole act causes Hot Dog to woof like crazy. JB tells him to quit it before she slumps down in her seat.

I realize I haven’t checked in on JB much since Hiram and I found Joseph Conway. The bursting of my tattoo and the séance took precedence, which, as a result, meant I couldn’t keep an eye on JB. The way I’m still not with Sabrina. Guilt overtakes my thoughts. How much longer can I continue to neglect Sabrina when a demon is wreaking havoc in Riverdale? I don’t know, but for now, I can at least live up my promise to Gladys and FP. So, I decide to engage in conversation with the girl.

“So, is this your last week of classes before the holidays?”

“Yep. We still got our midterms when we come back though, so that won’t be fun. But at least we don’t have the book report thing due until after the break.”

“That’s good. Have you picked out your book yet?”

“No, and of course, I have to tell my teacher which one I’m reading before we leave.” She pulls her knees up to her chin and folds her arms over her calves. A little frown forms on her face. I wonder if it’d be a horrible idea to lend JB one of my books on witchcraft, or if we could use a book of the Joneses. Then I remember the destruction of Senior’s books at the garage unit. And the hex placed on those books that left rashes and blisters. And the paper monster in the form of Senior almost killing FP.

My fists clench. I have to unclench them so I don’t leave JB asking questions. What help can I provide to facilitate her book selection process? I search through my memories for a solution. Only one comes to mind. The beautiful collection Hiram holds the keys to in his study.

“I could twist Hiram’s arm to see if he’d be kind enough to give you some options.” That seems to catch the girl’s interest, and Hot Dog’s. Her feet come to the ground again. She rests one elbow on the chair’s arm, resting her chin on the heel of her palm. “He’s got a huge library. All filled to the brim with every book you could dream of.” I explain to her. Okay, I’m stretching my description out a bit, but I have to admit, I was pretty damn impressed when I saw his library for the first time. The way each book is categorized. The color coordination. Works in Spanish intertwined with the English ones. Every genre, providing comfort to those that seek it.

“Does he have books that Jughead reads?” the young Jones lights up.

“More than that.” I tell her truthfully.

“More than what?” FP enters the conversation, holding two cups of coffee. He hands one down to me with a small grin. I mutter a _Thank You_ as I watch him take his seat across from us. I fill him in on the details of JB’s assignment, of my plan to convince Hiram into lending some books to JB. He finishes his gulp of coffee before he responds. “Huh. Never bought Hiram to be the charitable type. But if you’re the one insisting on him to do it, I’d be fascinated.”

JB rolls her eyes at her father. “Dad. You know he’d do anything for Ali. He practically has a crush on her.” I blush out of pure embarrassment. It wouldn’t surprise me if Hiram did, to be honest. But he has been rather kind to me a lot lately. And he did act quite flirtatious with me in high school before….well, before Hal and I scared the daylights out of him, but now it’s picked up again (which, okay, I really won’t complain about). I’m just lucky FP doesn’t raise the question on his daughter’s comment. I relinquish in quiet victory by sipping on my fresh brewed coffee.

The girl tilts her at us. “Is there any coffee left?”

FP shoots his daughter dagger eyes. And I do too. “The last of that pot is for your mother when she wakes up.” he tells the girl, but that doesn’t bode well with her. She gives us both a playful pout, putting back on that little _Sesame Street_ act when the Joneses invited me over for Thanksgiving. I could almost laugh at the memory, but I have to contain myself, mostly because I have questions forming in my head. Why would JB want to know about how much coffee is remaining?

The internal question gets answered. FP rolls his eyes at JB, then lifts one finger into the air. “One small cup. And don’t load up on cream and sugar. Save some for your mother.” The girl shoots up into the air, rushing her thank you’s to him before she sprints back into the trailer. Hot Dog trots at the girl’s side and follows her in.

FP grumbles something then chuckles. I’m still baffled by the whole exchange. Now I’m giving him dagger eyes. “You let her drink coffee?”

He’s gaping at me, the way he did when Gladys teased him about feeding Hot Dog his human meals. It’s hilarious to watch, only because I haven’t met parents who normally let their children indulge in caffeine at such a young age. Well, who am I to talk? FP and I partook in underage drinking and smoking in our youth.

Eventually, he gives up and scowls. “Don’t. I know exactly what you’re going to say, Alice!” he points a finger at me, causing me to cackle. He slips into a tone, mocking my voice. “ _It’ll impair her growth! She’ll get addicted! She’ll be slamming down five cups before she even gets to school!_ ” He goes back to his regular voice, “Yeah, I know. Don’t give me that crap!” He winds up giggling too, and we just sit outside for a good minute laughing over children and coffee.

We stop laughing after that, just so we can pause and drink our beverages. My thigh rubs up against the arm, making me wince. I scoot it away from the chair, using my arm to massage it. I should reapply some of Toni’s remedies before I head over to her shop. The reality of the day sets in. I hope Toni stays safe today. I hope she at least has friends to go with so she won’t be alone. I’m worried for her, just as much as I’m worried for Sabrina.

FP’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. “I’m sorry you lost your tattoo.” I meet his glance for a brief second. He brings his attention back to his coffee cup. “Didn’t get a chance to say that earlier, with everything going on.”

I make an attempt to brush it off, despite how I really feel. “It’ll heal, eventually.” I notice how quiet it’s gotten. How curled up and feeble FP is. I no longer see the caring father of two children, and the husband of a strong-hearted wife. I see the boy who hid beating scars under his letterman jacket. I see the victim of an alcoholic monster that used him and his mother like punching bags. I see a hollow ghost wanting nothing but to drown out the echoes with the disease that overtook his abuser.

Having Louis Cooper invade his body and soul messed with him, just not physically. I would like to hope that he can recover, but I can’t guarantee the chances of that any time soon.

“I’m sorry you….” I slow down my speech, carefully crafting how to express my sympathies for him. “I’m sorry about what happened at the séance. About what he made you do….” I have to stop myself from saying the rest. _About what he made you do to me, and to Toni._

My neck throbs. Without even thinking, I go to rub it. Then I look at FP, staring at me in horror. I drop my hand instantly. My cheeks go red. My eyes could water. My heart pounds uncontrollably. Lucifer, I’m an idiot. What was I thinking, having coffee by a fire pit, bringing back up triggering events? I’m tempted to just take my coffee cup, walk back to my trailer, and shut the world out for the rest of the day, only until I, either voluntarily or by force, apologize to FP later.

But I don’t. And I’m not greeted by unspoken hatred or distress. Instead, a hand reaches for my free one. I let out an inaudible gasp. My hand quivers, my ring finger taps down on the chair twice. It takes me a couple of seconds before I can look up at FP. The lines around his eyes age him under the fire’s glow. Speckles of white form in his beard, adding onto the existing layers. The years have not been kind to him. Or me for that matter.

“You’re still family, you know that?” he croaks. I just nod at him, doing my best to not break down any further in front of him. I feel his fingers slip between mine, preventing my fist from curling, from my nails digging into my palm. “I wasn’t lying when I told you that. After you….”

“I know.” I cut him off, startling us both. I could elaborate further on this, but I let my brain do the remainder of the talking. _But how am I family if I left you behind without a proper farewell? I left you with the vipers, and all you showed in return was kindness….why?_ So, instead I say, “Better off than the families we actually had.”

FP chuckles at that one. “No shit.” He eases his grip on my hand and glances around the trailer park. The sky above us begins to display its morning glow, with soft orange and baby pink peaking up from the snowy trees. I hear FP say, “Look at us. A runaway witch and a trapped gang member. Aren’t we the pair of heavenly creatures?” The last part comes off sarcastically. Still, I find myself scoffing at it.

“More like unheavenly creatures.” I comment. I feel the corners of my mouth lift. It feels like I uncovered an unhidden truth about myself. I’m the bastard witch daughter of a gang member, and I had romantic relations with a demon. Nothing about me is heavenly. And, for the first time, I’m okay with that.

FP takes a long sip of his coffee before he speaks again. “So….you and Lodge, huh?” My lips lose the upward angle. They furrow together as I glare at him, blinking furiously. He adapts a playful smirk. “Jelly says the man has a crush on you. Kinda shocks me a little, but….it makes sense the more I think about it.”

Slowly, I wiggle my hand out of his hold. I don’t respond back to the comment. I just sip on my coffee with my eyes still glued to him. I can see where JB gets her stinky, mischievous behavior from, and it’s not from Gladys. FP taps on his coffee cup. “And Gladys, she caught you two in my bedroom doing….something. Care to elaborate on the subject?”

“Fuck off, FP.” 

That creates a chorus of laughter from both of us. FP continues to tease me over it, and I have to control myself from using a spell to send a snowball his way. JB and Hot Dog return eventually, and for the most part, the subject drops. But I still get comments, and some humming in delight, over my recent bonding with Hiram.

Well, damn. Now all the Joneses think Hiram and I have something going on. Do we? I think he’s a good friend, and having him around brings a tremendous amount of aid to my mission. But to think of him as a lover? It leaves me clueless. What would Hiram think of the commentary? He’d probably hex FP for suggesting the idea, or he’d find a way to get vengeance down the road. Or maybe he wouldn’t, and he would think of them as compliments. That maybe he does….

Okay, I’m thinking too heavily on this whole thing. I’ll need to figure it all out later, when I’m not preoccupied on fighting for the good of humanity, or however mortals put it. Right now, my top priority is helping Toni. And finding out who joined the land of the dead thanks to Hal.

XXXXXXXX

**TONI**

I wasn’t expecting this many people to come out today. Every street I go down, there’s people around my age, some older, some younger, all out to support a common goal. I only wish I brought a sign with me, but I’ve seen a few protesters without them, so I guess it’s okay. I would have made one last night….if it weren’t for that stupid migraine. It hit me like a ton of bricks after Alice left my shop. A sharp ache rippled through my head, paired with flashes of white and colorful glass. Voices screamed for mercy. Dark red polluted my eyesight.

He didn’t kill again, did he? Alice would have let me in on it, since she can feel it when he attacks. Maybe it was just a flashback to one of the murders back in the 60s, maybe the 90s. Whatever the reason, the spirits must have wanted for me to see it. I’m just lucky the migraine ended before I crashed out, giving me a clear head for this protest today.

I look up at the faint glow of the sun, still covered by grey clouds. There’s actual blue in the sky. It’s nice for a change. The closer I get to the communal meet-up location, the more voices I hear. Friends laugh over songs heard on the radio. One practices a speech for today’s gathering. Plenty of younger Serpents, and just as many younger Ghoulies, the rival gang. Normally, I would make sure to steer clear from them as I walk down the street. But today is not about staying divided over meaningless crap. It’s about coming together. It’s finding unity to bring better for all of us.

Down at the end of the street, a small group of Serpents make last-minute edits to their signs. Seeing them so happy, so passionate….it reminds me of how I was with my crew. Watching these younger kids makes me nostalgic. I miss them all dearly. And I feel bad. The only person I really kept in close contact with following high school was Joaquin. Sweet Pea and Fangs are off doing their own things, and with all of our lives, we’ve been too busy to have a true reunion. But they were my found family. And I’d do anything to protect that family. I hope this new generation can have that sense of found family too.

I’m so caught up watching this group, that I almost don’t hear the person behind me. “Holy shit….Toni?”

I turn around at the sound of my name. Whatever tension I held onto melts away. It seems like my found family hasn’t gone away, because just a few feet away, a familiar face just saw me for the first time in years.

“Fangs?”

“Hi.”

I don’t hesitate another moment before I sprint over to Fangs and pull him in for a bear hug. We’re both giggling and crying because, shit when was the last time I saw this man in person and not on the other side of a FaceTime call? I eventually have to pull myself away so we can both breathe. I begin asking him so many questions all at once, asking what he’s doing here, when he came back, has he talked with anyone else.

He responds to each one by one. “I wanted to come back around Thanksgiving, but I was still with the Farm at the time…..which I’m not with anymore. Evelyn wanted me to take part in a baptism, and I kind of freaked out. Plus, her dad always intimidated me. So, I broke up with her and came back home right around the time these protests started happening. I wanted to reach out to you, and Sweets, and Joaquin, but I just didn’t get time. I also thought you were still busy with your shop.”

“Well, I’m here now.” I salute to him, cracking a smile.

Fangs looks around the park, noticing the pods of people near us. “Did you come here with anyone? Or is it just you?” I could tell him about Alice, about my conversation with her that led me to finally coming out to this protest. But then I remember….no one in my friend group knows that I’m a witch, or that I’m native Uktena. I can change that. If I’m going into this fight, I’m going to need people on my side. People who are willing to listen, to pick me up when I’m not at my best, or at my strongest. People who will allow me to live. And if that means my secrets get out, then so be it.

“No, I came alone.” I admit to him. My cheeks get heavy, and so does my heart. I have to clench my fists to keep my hands from shaking. I don’t like opening up to people like this. It was hard enough to defend my life choices when speaking with Alice. But this is a whole other beast of burden. While I like to act strong around my friends, it burns me out after the umpteenth time. It’s draining. I hate it. So, I don’t bother to cover up my building emotions when I tell Fangs, “I’ve been stressed out lately. I’m in that shop day in and day out. I don’t get a chance to breathe, so….” I pause, taking time to breathe. My eyes start to water. My hands shake. “I’m trying, Fangs. I’m trying to take more time for myself. To do things that matter to me.” I can feel tears forming. I lift my chin up to the sky, looking at the gray emptiness to keep Fangs from seeing this. I rest my hands on my hips, letting out an exhale. I bring my gaze back down to him. What does he think of me now? A weakling? An attention-seeker?

There’s no hatred or disgust on his face. Nor is there disinterest. Instead, I get a slow-forming grin and soft eyes. “That’s good, Tee. You deserve to have some time for yourself. I mean, out of all of us, you’re the one that really deserves a break.” The invisible weight on my shoulders fades. The corners of my mouth lift. I’m actually being listened to? By now, the tears are coming down hard, but I don’t give a shit. I reach back out for Fangs and pull him in for another hug. I blot my eyes on his flannel when I rest my forehead on his shoulder.

Voices grow louder around us. The march is about to begin. A pair of hands cup my face. Fangs smirks in excitement. “You ready to cause some trouble, Topaz?”

“Always.” I allow Fangs to take me by the hand and follow him to join his little group of other Southsiders. We all make our way over to the crowd, and it begins.

The streets begin to fill with peaceful protesters, our hopes held high, our voices loud. We chant together, calling for justice. And here’s something neat about these chants – we also raise awareness for other topics beyond the need for better treatment for all. We speak together for immigration, gay rights, healthcare, and education. Listening to the people around me boosts my confidence. Hearing Fangs get hyped next to me reminds me that I no longer have to walk into this battle alone. We keep our pace with the crowd, walking hand in hand.

Our words guide our feet down the streets, leading us further into Pickens Park. I’ll admit, I am nervous to walk back through here, considering what happened over the weekend with the team, and with…. For once, I’m glad the chanting is drowning out my inner voices. I never want to hear Louis Cooper speak again. Not after the way he spoke about me. Not after how he made Mister Jones hurt Alice. The bad memories cause my arm to tense up. I feel Fangs squeeze my hand, giving me a reassuring smile. “We’re almost there. Don’t worry.” he whispers. “There’s usually a couple of people who speak on different subjects connected to the protests. You wanna listen to them?” Anything to get me to stop thinking about the séance? Yes, please! I nod my head, and I let Fangs lead me to one of the forming crowds.

A young man with a megaphone gets onto the highest step of a nearby gazebo and hypes the crowd up. Everyone around us begins to record the speech on their phones. He starts by mentioning some of the recent progress since the protests initially started. The police have collected evidence that can point out Chuck Clayton’s killer. More money will be put towards improving the education at Southside High. The last point leaves me a bit shocked. Both Sheriff Keller and Mayor McCoy are resigning from their positions. McCoy is staying until the end of the week (when the Jubilee is happening), but Keller stepped down effective immediately over the weekend. I’m taken aback by this string of new information. How did I not hear about these things sooner? Have I really been that detached from society?

No, maybe I realized early on that Riverdale is not what it appears to be outside the billboards and travel books. What comes off as a pleasant, sleepy town really acts a cover up for the amount of red staining the ground we walk on. It just sucks – I actually thought McCoy being Mayor was probably one of the more progressive things happening in Riverdale. But now with her leadership coming to an end….what will that mean? Did I miss my opportunity to speak up on behalf of the Uktena? For the Southside overall? I spent so long sulking in the walls of my shop, waiting for the days to go by so I can get enough money to leave this place….I never once considered taking what was in front of me. I let my voice go mute, I forgot it was just as powerful as my magic. And it still is.

I lean into Fangs. “Has anyone spoken up about the history of the Serpents?” He doesn’t hear me all the way, since everyone has begun whooping and hollering. I practically shout my question over the people so he can hear me better. Fangs shakes his head.

“Not that I think….why?”

“Did anyone in the Serpents go over with you and the others why we are the way we are? No one told you about the history when you initiated?” Again, he shakes his head. My heart thumps loud in my eardrums. You think that with the amount of younger kids joining the Serpents, the older members would be explaining to them what exactly they’re joining. Or maybe the Serpents really have gone wayward since Granddad found warm bodies to initiate a faction.

My mind starts running. I look up at the speaker, asking if anyone is willing to speak, or if they want to make comments. People shove one another forward, volunteering one another jokingly. This is my chance.

“I think it’s time I gave everyone a little history lesson. Wouldn’t you agree?” Fangs stares down at me for a while. Then, a shit-eating grin appears on his face. With that, I tighten my grip on Fang’s hand, and I fight my way through the crowd. It’s funny listening to Fangs politely asking the others to let us through. Yet, it’s effective. The crowd splits in half so I can go through. Some start chanting, “Bring her up! Let her speak! Serpents represent!”

The closer I get to the front, the more my nerves kick in. I don’t think I’ve put myself in front of a large crowd like this since my Serpent initiation. I remember how frightened I’d been that day, performing a sexist routine to a disco song for all these older people. I remember the looks I got, those eyes on me like lions hunting their prey. I remember my uncle covering a Serpent jacket over my shoulders when I finished, hustling me off the stage before I could burst into tears. It was embarrassing, but I still had some obligation to do it. As I do now speaking up about the Uktena. I silently have to remind myself that I’m not in a bar filled with middle-aged white men. I’m with young adults my age. With other Southsiders. With other underprivileged citizens of this town. They will listen, at least that’s what I hope. And if I don’t do this now, who will?

We finally make our way to the front of the crowd. The first speaker smiles down at me, extending a hand. I hesitate before deciding take it. I practically fly into the air when he pulls me up onto the gazebo steps. I look back over my shoulder for Fangs. He joins the first row of protests and gives me a reassuring thumbs up. I examine the sea of people, watching their expressions. I hear them all. _Who is this girl? How did she get her hair that pink? What is she waiting for? Say something!_

The first speaker hands me the megaphone. “Go ahead. Speak what’s on your mind.” The voices die out, hushing one another to hear me. Me. The crowd goes completely silent. The megaphone in my hands buzzes. My inner voice calms my nerves. _Take a deep breath, Toni. If you could speak up about your issues to Alice, you can speak up now. What would Granddad do?_ I take one more breath, then I start.

“Alright, let me get a show of hands. How many of you out here marching today are Southsiders?” A bunch of protesters throw their hands up and whoop and holler. “Now, how many of you are Serpents?” The amount of hands decreases. Half are Serpents, mostly guys. I bet the older members have not shared the full history with them. It’s not my intention to lecture everyone out here, and I have places to be. But for the sake of this protest, and for my chance to build my connections…..I guess a small history lesson wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“Okay….okay. Look, I know we have our attachments to the gang. We’ve bonded with members. We’ve spent countless nights at the Wyrm. We know it’s our place. But the next time you band together for another night at the Wyrm, or going to rumble with the Ghoulies….be aware of why you’re fighting on behalf of us. Remember who fought for your rights to be standing here today.” This last comment sparks some ramblings in the crowd. Of course, they don’t understand. No one told them. Not until I showed up. I look over to the side of our groups, taking in the scene around me. The trees surrounding us. The leaves falling to the ground. The statue gleaming in the winter daylight.

General Pickens’s statue. My face falls glaring at it. All these people out today, including me, are still fighting for our lives, and yet he get immortalized? For what? He founded Riverdale, no one denies that. But the means he took to build this town, the sacrifices made to cut down his obstacles, the fight in which Granddad surrendered….

My blood boils. My grip on the megaphone tightens. The spirits really are working in my favor. They had me see the Reaper, partner up with Alice, and come to this protest for a reason. General Pickens may have his statue watching over the park, but the Uktena will never leave Riverdale.

This is my legacy.

I dive in deeper, “Well, I know why I’m here. Today, I represent the dead. I represent the silent, and the oppressed. I’m a Serpent, yes. It’s in my blood. But before I am a Serpent, and before I am a Southsider….. I am Uktena. Now, if you’re wondering what that means, the Uktena were what made the Serpents. My grandfather formed a group for Southsiders, to bring them sanctuary when the town was founded, because of what that man did.” I point a finger at the Pickens Statue, causing a ruckus within the crowd. What I say next might get me on the nightly news, but the truth has to come out one way or another. Well, here goes nothing.

“General Pickens founded Riverdale through the slaughtering of the Natives living here. Of people like you and me. There’s a reason our town has been divided since its founding. They want to keep the Southside quiet. They continue to push events like Pickens Day, they want to keep pushing the narrative of a prosperous town. It’s our story, they say. Well…..I say, that’s not their story to tell!” I pause for a moment to catch my breath. The crowd shouts in excitement. I look down at Fang, and I see him mouth _You’re doing good_. I let out a shaky exhale before I finish my speech.

“I’m not advocating for anyone to change the narrative of Riverdale right away. I’m not saying we need to destroy this town. But I want you all to think, long and hard. Think of the people who banded together to propel us into the future. Think of the life you want to lead with your families right now, and what you want for your children, and their children after that. Think of how we can do better. How Riverdale can do better by all of us. We shouldn’t have to live in silence anymore. We deserve to have the same opportunities as everyone living on the Northside. And I’ll keep fighting for us, for the Uktena, because….. Because I’m not ashamed of who I am. I know where I came from, and I will do better by them…..and for myself. Like I said….I represent the dead, and the silenced. And I know I can’t bring them back, no matter how badly I want to. But I can, and I must, honor them. Will you?”

My mouth clamps shut, my throat tingling from my words. My grip on the megaphone eases. I feel a bit lightheaded, I can’t hearing the approval of these people in front of me over my ears ringing. But I know they didn’t hate it. They didn’t turn me away, or boo me off the gazebo steps. They listened. They may not agree with every word vocally, but they did listen. They know the history now.

A smile forms on my face. I still have a long way to go before I ever make a true dent, but it’s progress. It’s a step in the right direction.

The first speaker pats me on the back. “Good job.” he exclaims with a warm glow. I let him take back the megaphone and help me off the steps. Fangs helps out, holding onto me as I come back down to the ground. I pull him in for a tight hug.

“You did it, Tee.” he whispers into my ear. “Your Granddad would be proud of you.”

“I hope so.” I whisper back.

The applause dies out as the next person is pulled onto the makeshift stage. Fangs and I begin to wander away from the front, heading more towards the back where we originally stood. Everyone we pass by gives me high-fives and tells me I did a good job. The same way the first speaker did. It’s a little unmoving, but I know deep down, they mean well. Over the chanting, I think I hear Fangs ask if I want to stick around to hear more speeches. I should get back to the shop at some point to check on Alice. I should go see if I can talk with Sierra McCoy about last minute decisions for the Uktena. But that will take some planning. And I don’t need to go over to my shop right at this very moment. I trust Alice by now. So, I tell him that I can definitely stick around for more.

Someone comes over to my free side, the towering shadow covers my own. I look up to find…..wait, I’ve seen her before. Was she a Serpent at the same time I initiated? She looks familiar. Her hair’s pulled back into a braided bun. Her dark lipstick gleams in the winter light. She smiles down at me. “You need to do speeches more often.” she tells me coolly. “You got a good knack of things. I don’t think we’ve had anyone speak about Uktena material before.” The newest member of our company waves to Fangs. “Long time, no see, pal.”

“I didn’t know you were out here, Peaches.” Peaches? A nickname? Hold on…..I remember back in high school, Sweet Pea had some crush on a Southsider girl. Peaches N Cream, I think he said. Could this be that girl?

I raise a brow at her. She rolls her eyes at Fangs and cackles. “Who the hell do you think has been running these demonstrations, Fogarty?” She looks back down at me. “Don’t worry. Everyone around here calls me Peaches. But, please….” She extends a hand out to me. “Call me Nancy Woods.” My grin grows. I return the gesture and shake her hand.

Nancy looks over her shoulder for a brief second, then turns back to us. “Listen, I have to get going. Having a talk with Mayor McCoy about what our team can do during the Jubilee. But, I just wanted to come over and say a job well done.” My brain snaps awake. She’s going downtown? Right now? The spirits are definitely on my side today.

Behind us, a new speaker starts. I look back over at the new speaker at the gazebo steps. I’m conflicted. Do I stay and continue on with this protest, or do I join Nancy and arguing my case with McCoy? This could be my one opportunity to speak with the Mayor before she permanently leaves office.

“Do you two wanna come with me?” Nancy asks, recalling my attention. She gestures to Fangs and me, “Or you could just walk me over to my car. I have some signs that need to go in the truck anyway for tomorrow’s demonstration---”

“We can help!” Fangs answers on behalf of us. I glare up at him, and he just winks at me. Is he deliberately buying me time to work more with Nancy? Well, whatever he’s planning, I need to make my decision now, because time is fleeting and I have my life to get back to. So, I confirm our willingness to help out, and we follow Nancy away from the gazebo.

Fangs rallies some others in our walking group to carry extra signs. They stay a few paces behind me and Nancy, I guess to give us a chance to speak. I decide to take advantage of this time.

“So, you really organized all of this?”

“It was a group effort, really….” she laughs. It only lasts for a short amount of time before her tone goes more somber. “But, yeah. These demonstrations matter to me. I knew Chuck Clayton growing up. Our families attended church together. Granted, I don’t think what he did to those girls was acceptable in any way, but he really did make an effort to get better. He didn’t deserve what happened to him. We did want to speak up about the handling of his death sooner, but we really didn’t have a way to approach it until….”

“Until Midge Klump died.” I fill in her sentence. Nancy presses her lips together in a flat line and nods. I take a second to chew on my bottom lip. I get her confusion and her sadness. When I heard about Chuck’s death, I couldn’t process how a teenage boy could get mauled by some wild animal out in the woods. I swore someone had covered it up. That got confirmed after talking with Alice, but back then, no one would what the Riverdale PD would do. It didn’t make sense that they would delay any proceedings and only give the boy a memorial pep rally, especially since his father coached the high school’s football team. So, when the cheerleader died next, and the police took more measures to resolve her death, it didn’t settle well with us.

I go on to say, “We just wish Chuck had his death taken as seriously as Midge Klump’s.” The comment causes Nancy to smile, her eyes glowing bright.

“Exactly!” she exclaims. “That’s why we’re out here! Even when the media still sees our gatherings as violent or disrupting, we just want equal treatment. We want to live. So, I’m glad you see that.” My cheeks flush, I don’t know whether from the cold weather or from the compliment. I’m amazed I never held a conversation with Nancy earlier, or any other Serpents my age outside of my crew. All of this hard work was in development, and I was so caught up majorly in my own problems, and other Serpent matters.

I think Nancy’s read my thoughts, because she then asks me, “Have you brought up any kind of Uktena matters to the Serpents?”

My smile fades. I shiver as a small breeze comes through. “Never had much of a chance.” I admit to her. “I’ve been so busy with my shop that I didn’t make the time. Believe me, I’d be lobbying for better treatment of the younger members at every waking moment. Even the younger female members and how they go about initiation for them. But….you know the Serpents.”

“Yep.” she smirks. Then, at the same time, we say, “Misogyny dies hard.” Our uncanny unison strikes up another round of giggling. I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but I’m kind of enjoying this time with Nancy. I never really had a lot of female friends growing up. I spent a majority of my youth with other male Serpents my age. Befriending other female Serpents never became a priority for me. But if I am seriously dedicating more effort into Uktena advocacy, I may need to expand that network of people. And I think Nancy might become more that just a friendly face with kind words.

We finally reach her vehicle, a rundown truck with blankets shoved into the truck. She directs Fangs and the others behind us, “Be careful with the signs when you put them in the back. Just lay them down on top of one another.” I watch the crew go to work for a little bit, then I begin to pick up on the stickers on her window.

One stands out to me in particular. A hot pink skull with two words circling it. I’ve seen this before. I think it’s the symbol for the new tattoo parlor on the Southside. I’ve only heard bits and pieces from word of mouth, mostly in praise of the place. It’s female centric, and it’s growing to be a little sanctuary for the younger females within the Serpents, and, surprisingly, the Ghoulies. Now I’m thinking….would that market also include Uktena like me?

I might as well make an effort. So, I point at the sticker. “You work at Pretty Poisons?”

Nancy grins. “Oh, yeah. I’m usually there when I’m not bartending at the Wyrm. Actually….” she fully faces me, “The crew that’s helped me organize these demonstrations? We’ve been holding meetings there to go over information regarding times and dates, and any progress for local legislation.”

“Okay, that’s pretty badass. No pun intended.” I almost gag at my own words. What is making me so nervous? The fact that I’m finally making headway in my advocacy, or that the person I’m newly making acquaintances with happens to be….rather good looking and passionate for her cause?

Fangs lets out a snort, startling me. I turn to find him watching us, giving me a sarcastic thumbs up. Now I’m just more embarrassed, and somewhat irritated. Granted, the boys know I’m more into girls anyway. But sometimes, I forget that hanging out with the boys so much means that they’ll poke fun at my flirting abilities.

I send back a scornful look to Fangs, hoping it’ll shut him up. I don’t hold up my demeanor for long, though. Nancy says, “Would you want to come to the meeting tonight?” This catches my attention. I turn back to face her, replacing my grimacing look with a curious one. “It’ll be to cover the basis for what we’ll do for the Jubilee on Friday. Assuming my meeting with the Mayor goes well.”

“Hey, it will.” I grin. I’m doing my best to sound optimistic, because Nancy is right. Anything could go with this meeting, either in glory or in failure. Besides, it’s Riverdale. We practically live in a town of Murphy’s Law – anything that can go wrong does go wrong. But I don’t want to continue to play into that fear, and I don’t want to give up on my fight for the Uktena. Not with this creep demon running around.

I should go to her meeting. I should make new acquaintances. My case will fare better with bigger numbers, and it wouldn’t hurt to build up my friend group along the way. Why not? I have nothing to lose by joining Nancy and her team. I go to say more, to confirm. By the time I open my mouth, it goes dry, throwing me off guard. Nancy stares at me with concern. Oh great. Of course I’m getting all nervous again. What is wrong with me?

Maybe I should be more thankful that Fangs came along with us, because he jumps into the conversation. “That’d be great, actually. She’d love to come.” he says as he throws his arm over my shoulder. He proceeds to glare down at me and shoot me a wink. If he’s expecting a thank you, it won’t be coming any time soon.

Luckily, Nancy doesn’t see any issues. “Awesome! You can come too, if you want, Fangs. Unless your return to town is only temporary.”

“Oh no, I’m gonna be around for a while.” He admits, losing his more confident stance. Okay, I do feel bad for him. When he first mentioned taking part in the Farm and being with his girlfriend, Evelyn, he sounded so happy. Breaking away from all of that must not have been easy. Something tells me that he had more reasons for leaving, besides almost getting drowned by his girlfriend’s family. Something else has to explain why he came back.

I decide I’ll press into him later about it. I finally find my words again, filling in the remaining gaps. “What time should we come over?”

“Like 7:30. We all have busy work schedules during the day, so it works out. If you’re not able to get there right away on time, it’s not a big deal. We’ll fill you in, one way or another.” She pauses, glancing down at the ground. Then, Nancy digs for something out of her pockets. I don’t really get why until I see a phone appear in her hands. “Here. Why don’t we exchange numbers? That way I can add you onto the group chat!”

I blink a few times, processing everything, giving her a shocked smile. Fangs eventually nudges me, prompting me to take action. “Okay!” I tell her, whipping out my own phone. We hand our phones off to one another and plug in our contact information. When we exchange them back, I send her a quick text so she knows it’s me. I add a little smiling emoji at the end of the message. I hope she doesn’t find it too cheesy, or weird. And I hope Fangs doesn’t make any comments about it.

Nancy gets the message and cackles. “Alright.” She begins to back away towards the driver’s side of her truck. She gives us a two-finger salute and a warm grin. “See you around.” I watch Nancy get into her truck, disappearing from our view. Fangs calls out to wish her luck as the truck leaves the parking lot, driving away.

I stand there all mesmerized. Someone pinch me, did I just hallucinate this whole thing? Or did I really make a new friend and arranged to keep up the advocate work? Fangs was right. Granddad would be proud of me. I wheel around on my heels, giggling to myself. This is real. I made a speech in front of hundreds of Southsiders. I got to reunite with one of my best friends in the whole world. I met another activist that I may or may not be developing a crush on. I’m going to fight for the Uktena, head on. This is all real.

Fangs and I hang out in the parking lot for a little while longer, teasing one another on our love lives and laughing about the old days. We eventually meander our way back to the demonstrations at the gazebo. We get more and more excited with each chant, every speaker, and group dynamic. The commotion at Pickens Park drowns out any negative voices swimming in my head, which is good. It drowns out the buzzing in my pocket, which is not good.

I don’t realize that my phone rang and that I had multiple texts within a 10 to 15 minute span until Fangs and I break away to grab lunch. We stand in line to grab meals from one of the food truck vendors at the park. We still have time before we even make it to the front, so I use the dead space to check my notifications. I have to bring the phone up to my face to see what the issue is, and who called. The phone almost slips out of my hands. An intense wave of fear runs through me.

All the texts and the call were from Alice.

“Tee? Are you alright?” Fangs taps on my shoulder multiple times, but I’m so spaced out from seeing the texts. From listening to Alice’s panicky voicemail. He calls my name again, “Tee?”

I begin to back out of the line, away from him. “I gotta go, Fangs. Something came up.” I go to walk away, but Fangs starts to follow me.

“Wait, Tee! What’s going on?”

“I….” I stutter on my words. I haven’t told Fangs about the messages, or the voicemail. For all he may know, or start to suspect, my shop is in trouble. But I wish that was actually the reason Alice called.

“I don’t think I can stay.” I begin to get all teary eyed. I don’t want to lie to Fangs, but I don’t have a lot of choices right now. “Listen, I’ll keep you posted. Come by my trailer tonight before 6, so we can go to that meeting together. Okay? I promise I’ll….”

“It’s okay. Go.” Fangs says, putting a weak smile on to comfort me. My lips wobble, my eyes get wet. I pull Fangs in for one last hug, trying to keep myself together and not sob into his arms. I have to tear myself away eventually. I want to stay, I want to keep fighting, but Alice needs my help. Badly.

I sprint through the crowds, weaving between clumps of people and straggling bushes. I wish I was smart and brought my car with me to this protest. But I didn’t – I walked here. I have to do the math in my head to determine how long it will take for me to sprint back down to the Southside from my current location. My feet lead me to the parking lot, following the driveway back out onto the streets of Riverdale. I turn on my heels from the direction I entered the park this morning, and I begin my journey back.

While running, I try to distract myself with happy thoughts, like going through a laundry list. I reunited with Fangs. I made a speech. I met Nancy. I’m going to a meeting tonight. I committed myself fully to defending the Uktena. I run through this list, item by item, like a broken record to keep my head straight. Well, I get so distracted by this repeated mantra, I don’t hear the car coming up behind me, almost plowing me down.

The car horn slams. I scream and jump backwards. My heart’s pounding, ready to fly out of my chest. I’m ready to fight whoever attempted to commit mass murder. The driver comes out of the vehicle, putting his hands up. My heartbeat slows. My grieving, fearful look is exchanged for one of frustration.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

“Forgive me, Miss Topaz.” Hiram Lodge defends himself. “I didn’t know you would be in the middle of the intersection.” I roll my eyes at the older witch. I can’t tell if I buy his whole innocent demeanor. I know Alice sees good in him, but I’m still a bit weary. I mean, what could a man like him be doing on a Monday afternoon driving across town in an expensive sports car---

Wait. He’s going in the same direction I am. To the Southside. A stupid idea comes to me. I don’t want to resort to him, but he may be my best option right now.

“Are you heading over to see Alice?” I watch Hiram lower his hands, lifting his eyebrow.

“Yes…..why?”

“Good.” I make a beeline over for the passenger’s side of the car. I hear him attempt to ask me what’s going on and why I’m jumping into his vehicle. However, I cut him off. “I’ll explain on the way over. Just drive.”

Luckily, he doesn’t put up an argument. He just gets back into the car and drives like a bat out of hell to our final destination.

XXXXXXXX

**ALICE**

Toni was right about one thing - the shop doesn’t have much action going around noon. I’ve had a few patrons here and there, but nothing too busy. They would ask where Toni went when they saw me, and I kept giving them the same spiel over and over. That she’s out exercising her rights and I’m helping out until her return. But other than that, I’ve had the place mostly to myself. But I can also see why Toni would still need to have the shop operating to avoid bankruptcy. Some of the lights flicker if left on for an extended period of time. The A/C unit is on its last stand. No wonder she’s stressed out about her financial situation. Frankly, it’s no different from my initial struggles at my bakery. With these circumstances, you have to stay open just so you can get the money for the repairs. 

Maybe I should lend her some money as a parting gift before I take Sabrina back to Greendale, just to cover the expenses. No, she wouldn’t take money out of kindness. I wouldn’t either if I were in her position. But I should still do something for Toni before I leave. And for the Joneses. And Hiram. Maybe I should do something for myself.

I got thinking about talking with FP this morning about my tattoo….what was my tattoo. Should I get another one? How big would I go? Where would I put it? I remember how painful it was the first time around, but I was thirteen and embarrassed at this rite of passage. Why commemorate a segment of my horrifying youth with another tattoo. But I’m older now. And I’m no longer as embarrassed of my Southside roots. I could consult Gladys about it, see what she recommends. 

I outline my plan in a little notebook I brought along, which includes my schedule for the week at Pop’s. I made an effort this morning to stop by, to tell Pop of Sabrina’s recovery, of the shift (again) in my schedule. Luckily, he and I took time to draft out my schedule for the week, which is mostly afternoon and night shifts. Like it was when I first came here. And it helps that I’ll have Gladys there with me, in case anything does happen again….which I don’t count on. That’s for damn sure.

I also make a mental map of the recent killings, just so I can pin down where he struck last night. I begin with Chuck, then drafting out to Midge. At the tail end, I draw an open circle, with a question mark in the middle. I tap my pen on that symbol, hoping my brain can churn up something. Eventually, I give up and close the book. While it’s still on the brain, I send a quick text to Hiram asking if he can put together a collection of books for JB. No response comes back yet. He’s probably busy with his actual work, so I slip my phone back into my bag.

A little breeze picks up in the shop, but it doesn’t really affect me. I’m wearing one of my longer dresses today, my maroon and gold one with red and brown ferns. Granted, the actual fabric doesn’t fully prevent me from getting cold, but the layers certainly help. I begin pacing behind the counter just to warm up. I could really use a cup of coffee right now. Or a cigarette. But I remember I gave those up years ago.

One of my wishes does get granted. Not a moment after I think about getting coffee, the door chimes. I stop my pacing to find Gladys walking into the shop, a coffee cup in each hand. “Figured you could use a pick-me-up.” she beams up at me, holding one of the cups out. I practically sprint over to her and snag the cup from her hands. I grumbled a thank you as I take a long sip. The beverage burns my tongue, but honestly, it’s worth it.

“Has Toni come back yet?” Gladys asks.

I swipe my tongue over my bottom lip to keep the coffee from dribbling down my chin. “No. But I think she’s doing alright. Haven’t heard anything about how the protest was going.” I begin to meander back over to my area behind the counter. I set the cup down and flip back open my notebook, right to the page I left off. “Been trying to figure out the recent pattern.”

Gladys meets me at the counter, resting on her elbows as she glances down at my notes. “FP said you got sick again, but I thought it was just whatever Sabrina had. That you contracted it too.”

I shake my head. I can feel my leg acting up, so I have to be careful how I explain this chain of events to her. “Last night, after I left this shop. Only problem is I don’t know who….or where….”

“You think sicko’s caught on to the fact that you can see what happens?” I stand up a little straighter. I haven’t considered that option. Hal could be slowing me down for the sake of making his victims’ reveals more shocking. Could that be the reason he lured me away from finding Midge Klump at the school? Why he got into my head, and destroyed my tattoo? Why has he changed his pattern?

“Wouldn’t surprise me if he did.” I leave it there. My thigh itches, I send a nonverbal spell to that area to calm it. Okay, I know it’s not Blue, or one of Toni’s remedies, but it gets the job done. Who would have thought that I’d be mourning over a tattoo from my dark days…. My tattoo idea. Gladys is standing right here. I should pick her ear about it now before I lose my chance.

So, I strike up the conversation. “Okay, I need to get your opinion on something.” Gladys looks back up at me, listening attentively. “I’ve had this on the back of my brain for a little bit, and I wanted to talk it out before I actually did anything.”

When I take a moment to pause, Gladys scowls and rolls her eyes. “Fine. You have my blessing to make your relationship with Lodge public.” My jaw hangs open. My eyes bulge. First JB, then FP, now her? To be fair, she walked in on me and Hiram in the middle of something in her bedroom. But it was nothing! Absolutely nothing whatsoever! I think Gladys picks up on my mental defense, because she loses her confident pose. “Wait...was that not what you were gonna ask me about?” I raise a brow at her, forcing myself to hold back a fiery comeback, or a curse.

“We’re not dating.” I confirm. But Gladys doesn’t seem to back down.

“Really….then, would you like to explain to me what the hell that was I walked in on you two doing in my bedroom?” Oh, here we go. Now my eyes are rolling, making Gladys crackle in delight. She takes down her stance, putting up a hand. “Okay, if he was just being nice and wanting to check in on you, I can buy that.”

“Good,” I tell her, pointing a vexing finger at her “because that was _all_ that happened.” I make my finger wiggle, adding some height to my brows to make my expression look goofy, but it only makes us laugh. I go for another sip of coffee before I can finally make my case.

“But in all seriousness, I was thinking about doing something bold. More for myself than anyone else.” She nods. She says to fire away with my suggestion. I take a deep breath, hoping that I’m not risking her place of FP’s in the Serpents, and I tell her, “I want to get a new tattoo. To replace the one that got destroyed.”

I watch her hands gently rest on the counter, holding onto her coffee cup. She stares down at it blankly, nodding her head. Oh no. Does she think I’m appropriating Serpent culture? Or does she not want me to stay involved in the gang, especially now that I’m helping Toni in reviving the Uktena? I wander around the counter to stand in front of Gladys.

“I’m not planning on rejoining the Serpents, if that’s what you’re worried about. There’s a reason I had my original hiding on my thigh. But I….I still want to honor my time in some way. Something that’s not….would I get in trouble if I got a snake tattoo of any kind?”

Gladys tilts her head up at me. “I don’t see why that would be an issue. Doesn’t have to associate with the Serpents if you don’t want it to.” I sigh in relief. Okay, so she believes it’s a good idea. I could ask FP for another opinion, but I trust Gladys on this one. Now, I just have to determine how big I want to go. And where to put the damn thing.

“Very good point.” I pay back her wisdom, “Should I make this one visible, though? If it has no connection to the Serpents, would I be better off hiding it like I did, or….” I stop talking for a brief moment. I feel a headache coming. The wounds on my thigh and my arm pulse. I place one hand on the counter to keep myself steady. Daisies and candles. Hopefully, Gladys will see this as nothing.

Luckily, she does. She points down at my arm with her index finger. “Go with the forearm. Getting a snake tattoo there could actually work for you. Actually….” she sets her cup down. I stay frozen as she lifts both of my arms, taking time to examine my features. “You could get it on your shoulders too. Any part of your arms, really. But, yeah, I recommend either the forearm or the shoulder. Any side works.” I look down at my own arms, pushing back the sleeves of my dress to really glare at my skin. Maybe I could look good with a forearm tattoo. If I just find the right design, and a good artist to place it on me…. What would Hiram think if he saw this new tattoo? Would he find it attractive, or would he write me off as another Serpent fanatic? What about Sabrina, or her aunts, or anyone else in this town? Or Hal….

No, screw what he thinks. Screw what anyone thinks. Look, I know the thought of everyone judging me over a tattoo gives me anxiety. But at the end of the day, I’m not backing down on this decision. I will get a visible snake tattoo, despite its troubling reasons.

“And are you sure it won’t spark any trouble?”

Gladys scoffs, “No way in hell. And if any Serpent tries to give you snuff, send them my way and I’ll throw hands.” She lets go of me and makes a fighting stance. I giggle at the notion, and she’s giggling too. Maybe I am glad that I didn’t bring FP with me during my years of isolation, and I’m glad I didn’t stay in Riverdale. If I did either of those things, how would I have met Gladys or JB?

A while after our giggling fest, Gladys playfully slaps my arm. “Oh, speaking of trouble….” I calm down so I can hear what she has to say. “Seems like you and Lodge are in luck. Or not as prone to getting caught by the PD on your little escapades.”

Not as prone to….hang on, what is she talking about? I ask her to explain her comment, and she sends me back a surprised look. “Oh shit. You haven’t heard? Keller resigned as Sheriff. Did it over the weekend while we raised the dead.”

My heart plummets. My headache increases. Tom Keller left the Riverdale PD? Maybe that’s why no one from the force seemed to chase after Hiram, Toni, and me this weekend. I assumed that the police were prioritizing their efforts on keeping the peace, or at least that’s all of what’s being shown on the news. I never figured it’d come to Tom leaving. But why? What sparked this sudden decision? What if he ends up falling down the same path as….

“Did anyone take over as Sheriff?” I croak.

“Some younger guy. Minetta, I think his name is….” My shoulders roll back when she says the name. Minetta….the younger officer with Tom. I only met him once, right when they dragged us to the station after finding Chuck Clayton. Minetta….he’s the replacement? Will he be merciful with Hiram and me if we ran into him, the way Tom was with us? No….no, he wouldn’t. He’d actually get the job done the right way. He’d know what to do. But Tom….Tom was acting more lenient towards the end. He let us get away with wandering about Thornhill. He didn’t cause any trouble at the protest when Sabrina had her seizure. He let Hiram go after he…..after he talked with me. 

With me. 

The coffee I just swallowed attempts to come back up as acid reflux. I fight to keep it down. Of course, it’s no coincidence Hiram and I got away with our trespassing with Tom Keller on the clock. Tom must have done it because of….because of me. But why? I didn’t enchant him. I vowed that I would never do that to him. But what else could explain his easygoing behavior around us. Unless he…..unless he’s starting to catch on that I’m not “Wendy Beauchamp”. That there’s a reason I look so familiar to him. The whole thought of him remembering me makes my stomach churn.

I need to get my brain off the subject. I don’t want to think about Tom knowing I’m Alice Smith. I don’t want to imagine sweet talking my way out of prison time with Sheriff-to-be Minetta. So, to spite myself, I ask a new question. “Any other news I need to know about?”

“Oh, yeah.” Gladys huffs. “Sierra McCoy’s stepping down as Mayor. But only after the Jubilee this weekend.” I almost choke on my drink. Great, first Tom Keller, now Sierra Samuels? Why is everyone I know leaving their positions? I’ve only heard good things about Sierra’s run as mayor of Riverdale. From the few times I served her at Pop’s, she was nothing but friendly and pleasant. Okay, maybe she wants to spend more time with her daughter, or perhaps more time on her own interests. I thought FP said something about her being a lawyer at one point, but that was weeks ago. Sierra leaving office makes more sense than Tom. Even then, the whole situation seems off.

“Is this recent?” I ask.

Gladys nods. “Announced it on RIVW this morning. No doubt they’ll have it in the Register by the middle of the week. Here,” she pulls out her phone, “lemme see if I can find the video.” She paces around the shop as she looks up the video of Sierra’s resignation announcement. My head starts reeling, beyond the dull ache. I click my pen awake, and I write down the events in my notebook. I make a dash under the circled question mark, writing in Tom and Sierra’s resignations underneath.

The air goes still. I twist the end of my pen against the open page. My thigh itches. My arm could split open again. Gladys finally speaks up. “Holy shit.”

I look up from the notebook. I notice her face, all widened in horror. A chill goes down my spine. Something tells me she found something else other than local Riverdale news. “What? What is it?”

“There was a massacre at that nursing home outside of town. The Sisters of Quiet Mercy.”

My heart flies down to my stomach. My brain splits open. My wounds come to life. The Sisters….that’s where I saw Hal going last night. That old church-turned-insane asylum was his battleground. But who did he go after? WHO? I race over to Gladys, hoping I don’t lose my balance on the way over. I glance down at her phone, reading the recent article in horror.

The asylum that became a nursing home back in the late 90s became the place of bloodshed and terrors the night before. 10 nurses, and at least 23 patients, were slaughtered. No major names are listed, but the photos of the place….. Red streaks paint the white walls. Broken stained glass windows light up the rooms in an unsettling fashion. A few nurses and patients made it out, some were rushed to the hospital, but one got away. The reporters and police couldn’t get a name of the escapee, but they assume this person had taken part in the slaughter. 

My eyes water. My ears ring. I can’t read the rest of this article. Hal attacked this place in the middle of the night. This was a demonic entity’s doing, not some nurse. Hal wouldn’t let some nurse take the credit of his work. But that depends on the person he had gone after. 33 died….which one was his person of interest? But most importantly, who was the nurse that survived and ran off? Where did they go?

The door chimes. I almost don’t hear it over my ears ringing. When I finally do come to my senses, I hear a chorus of sluggish footsteps, heavy breathing, and held back sobs. Whoever walked in through the door mutters something. Over and over. _Tee_ …. I can’t bring my head up and over my shoulder to examine this new customer. I don’t understand what they want. But they keep saying this thing again. _Tee_ …. I finally glance over my shoulder. My eyes fully open. My jaw practically hits the floor.

A young man stumbles over to Gladys and me, covered in blood. It cakes his jet black hair, and the scrubs he wears. His light eyes are filled with tears. Dirt lines the bottom of his uniform. I can’t read the label sitting on his scrubs, but my mind quickly puts the pieces together. This is the runaway nurse from the Sisters. And he’s not calling for something random.

He’s calling for Toni.

“Joaquin?” 

Gladys sprints over to the young male nurse, Joaquin. She has to stop herself from reaching out to him, afraid of getting blood and dirt on her hands. The poor kid’s petrified. He looks at her, his lips wobbling. 

She makes an attempt to get his attention. “Joaquin, what are you doing here? What….what happened to you?”

“Missus Jones….” Joaquin chokes out. “Where….where’s Toni? Is she here?” Oh no. He doesn’t know that she went out. Well, how could he? Toni probably hasn’t seen this kid in years. Is he a former customer of hers? Another fellow Serpent or Uktena member? One of her friends? Whoever Joaquin is….he’s going to be in trouble if Gladys and I don’t help him. And that trouble will come from more than just the police.

I join Gladys and Joaquin, the younger of the two blinking back tears when he sees me. I glance down at his scrubs. The Sisters’ label remains untouched by blood and dirt. His nametag, however, didn’t get the same treatment of mercy. I do my best to stay calm, for all of us. “Joaquin….that’s your name, right?” The young nurse nods his head. “I’m Alice. I’m a friend of Toni’s. She’s out right now, but I can get into contact with her.” I start to wonder if that would be a good idea. Toni only told me to contact her in case of an emergency, like if the A/C unit crapped out suddenly, or if the cash register runs out of money. But now that I think about it, helping out a young man covered in blood who’s hiding from the police, who literally asks for Toni herself, is an actual emergency.

“Please….” he whimpers, his hands beginning to shake. “Please, just don’t send me to the cops. I don’t wanna get lynched. I didn’t….I didn’t kill her….” My face goes stiff. My thigh radiates in full pain, almost sending me to the floor. I have to stay propped against one of the shelves.

_I didn’t kill her…._

Hal’s new victim. The subject of the massacre. Was Joaquin her personal nurse? I have to guess so, because he keeps saying it, over and over. “She was a good lady. A little crazy, but not worth getting killed over. I wouldn’t do that to her, or any of them….” Gladys tells him to stay calm, that she’s going to contact someone for help. She runs back over to the counter so she can make her phone call. I can’t move due to the pain shooting right out of my thigh, and my arm. Who did Hal kill and frame Joaquin for?

The young nurse turns to me, a tear streaming down his cheek. I hear his words in my mind, _You believe me, don’t you?_ I’m too scared to reach out to him, to see what he saw. I know what Hal did. I can imagine well on my own what he did to put on his sadistic little show. I just need to know….

“Who was she, Joaquin?” I finally get the courage to ask. “Who do the police think you killed?” Joaquin fights back a sob as he struggles to breathe. After a few moments of silence, he says a name.

“Rose Blossom.”

**XXXXXXXX**

**_Part II Coming Soon_ **


	6. Violent Delights, Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey howdy hey my dudes!
> 
> Here it is - the second half of Violent Delights! Let me know what you think down in the comments! I would love to hear some of yal's theories on the tale....

**ALICE**

Time melts going from Toni’s shop back to the trailer park. I have no clue what hour it is, how long it took us to get back to the Jones’s tiny home. I must have checked the time at one point, right when I was texting Toni to come back to the trailer park to help Joaquin, and Hiram for his assistance as well. I haven’t looked back in my phone for a response from either of them. My mind is caught up in the one name the young nurse muttered. Rose Blossom is dead. Hal went after her, and he took out a good number of others at the Sisters. But why? What led him to finally get his revenge on the Blossoms years after burning down Thornhill? Maybe his new witch sent him to Rose. It’d make sense, but Hal’s pattern has altered so much since Midge Klump. He probably went rogue for all I care, and frankly, that sounds like a more reasonable explanation. But it doesn’t explain the other deaths. It doesn’t explain sparing the life of a young male nurse and letting the authorities assume he is the true culprit.

I wait impatiently on the couch, my knees bouncing. Gladys has Joaquin in the shower to get the blood and dirt off of him. She’s in the bedroom pulling out some of FP’s clothes for the boy to wear when he gets out. When we’re ready to have him retell the horrifying tale of his great escape. He’s probably wondering how to claim his innocence, how to care for his family from a jail cell. I’m thinking about catching Hal at his next move, imagining my mouth uttering a spell that will send him beyond the ninth circle of Hell. Sending him straight to Satan himself would be considered a luxury. An act of mercy for the things he did to me. And to all that he murdered along the way.

Gladys emerges from the bedroom. My knees stop their dance as I look up at her. She lets out an elongated huff. “Guess it’s not my lucky year, is it?”

“What do you mean?” I feel like I opened a can of worms after the words leave my mouth. Fortunately, Gladys doesn’t take them as an offense. She joins me on the couch, propping her feet up on the coffee table.

I watch her number off events on her fingers. “My husband almost got killed, twice. My children are getting bullied. And these younger Serpents I knew,” she gestures to the doorway, “are fighting for their lives, and I feel like I can’t do shit about it.” Gladys lets her hands fall to her lap. From the sound of it, I know she’s talking about more than just finding Joaquin.

“Toni and Joaquin are good kids.” she says. “Their whole crew was nothing but good. They befriended my children. They were quick to defend my family at Serpent meetings. They never let the real world get in the way of anything they did.” She lets her feet slide off the table, back onto the floor. She rubs the sides of her temple, hunched over. “I wanted better for them. I tried to help them get better. And now…..” The distress in her tone comes out. I hear her fighting back sobs. “It’s all coming back to punch me in the gut.”

I can’t watch her fall apart like this. Not after all those times she was there to comfort FP and me at our worst. So, I cradle her head against me, sheltering Gladys from the evils of her world. She’s not full on sobbing, but her breathing has doubled in the absence of her voice. I get why she’s afraid for these kids. Toni got ridiculed by a racist ghost. Joaquin now has to plead his innocence to an unforgiving town of Rose Blossom copycats. Thinking about the old woman creates knots in my stomach. Right now, I’d rather not have the image of Rose bleeding out to death thanks to my douche canoe of a demon-ex-boyfriend. I need to keep Gladys from crumbling. I need to bring her relief. Because that’s what friends do, right?

And it’s not just her or her whole family I need to protect. It’s Sabrina getting the freedom to choose her own path. It’s Hiram defying his family’s obligations and enjoying his life with Veronica. It’s Toni reclaiming her native roots. And now, it’s Joaquin fighting for his own life. I think of all the people I’ve come into contact with since returning to Riverdale. Even before coming back. At first, I only thought I would go after Hal for ruining my life. That I would banish his soul from the face of the Earth for me, and me alone. But the longer I’ve stayed here, the longer I’ve come fact to face with my past, the more I realize….I don’t want to kill Hal for myself. I want to kill him all of them. For everyone he hurt in Riverdale.

I forget I’m holding onto Gladys until she lifts her head up, sniffling. “Sorry, witch. Hadn’t had much of a chance to get all this crap out. Not a lot of time to process it all.”

I tell her in full honesty, “You shouldn’t have to hold all these emotions in. You’ve been through a lot in the past couple of weeks.” I have to stop talking, because what I would have said next would have made the situation and her stress about me, not her. _And most of it was because of me._

Now is not the time to focus on me. Gladys never did it when I whined and cried to her. So, I need to be a good friend, and I need to be supportive and listen to her. She says, “Maybe FP’s right. I do work way too hard.” She sits upright, using my kneecap to prop herself up. I’m about to ask her what she means, but she beats me to it. “I spend too much time taking care of other people, keeping myself busy, that….that I forget to let myself breathe sometimes.” She wipes away a stray tear and chuckles. And I do too, because I get how she feels. I’ve been that way for the past few years of my life. But Gladys at least has FP, and her kids, and her co-workers at Pop’s, and parents in PTA groups. I only have Sabrina, and sometimes Ambrose, and the Spellman Sisters if I’m lucky and….. _No, Alice! Stop making this about you!_ I mentally kick myself for letting my own emotions get in the way. This is probably why I didn’t have a lot of female friends back in the day.

I dare to ask at least one question, “Have you talked with FP about it? Not just in a joking manner?”

She sniffles. “Briefly. I don’t try to bug him about that crap, and lately, with everything that’s happened to him, I don’t want to nag him to death. But I’m also not that good about asking for help either.” She pauses to pick at flaking nail polish from one of her fingers. I make a mental note to myself, that the next time I get alone with FP, I’ll ask him to make more of an effort to help Gladys out. Like making her and the kids breakfast or dinner a few times a week, or to invest in deep cleaning the trailer at some point. I can do better about taking more shifts at Pop’s so she won’t have to work the long hours. Sabrina and I could spend a day with Jughead and JB so she and FP can do a date night or something fun. Hell, I could take Gladys on a getaway girls’ trip for a weekend. Just something to take all that weight off her shoulders.

Before I can even suggest those options to her, the front door flies open. My instincts propel me to leap up, to shuttle Gladys behind me and protect her from…. Oh. It’s just Toni. Toni! My guard lowers when the younger witch strides into the kitchen. She turns to me, “Is he in the trailer?” It takes me a minute to realize that she’s referring to Joaquin.

Right as his name pops into my head, Joaquin comes out of the Jones’s bedroom, wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and one of FP’s smaller shirts. “Tee….” He calls out to his friend. She whips her head around to find him on the verge of tears. The two younger Serpents collide into one another, hugging each other tight. Another pair of footsteps enter the trailer, catching my attention.

Hiram waits in the middle of the doorway, silently asking for permission to enter. I step out to him and pause. Did he give Toni a ride over here? Does he know about the young nurse in this trailer? I watch Hiram take baby steps inside, just stopping a couple of feet away from me. I go to ask the questions, but he takes the reigns of the conversation. “I ran into Miss Topaz just as I was leaving, just as she was heading over to see you.” He gestured to the younger Serpents behind me. Toni guides Joaquin over to the small table in the kitchen. I bring my gaze back to Hiram as he says, “Figured it was the polite thing to drive her over, so….I did.”

The corners of my mouth lift. My tension eases. “Thanks.” I mutter. I finally glance down and notice the overstuffed bag hanging over his shoulder.

Gladys does too. She wanders over from the couch, pointing down at it. “The hell you got in there, Lodge?”

He stares back and forth between us, looking rather embarrassed. Or sheepish. I can’t really tell. I try to make out the shapes that shoot out from the bag. They look too angular to be toys. Or coal. The more that I look at the stupid thing, it looks as if he stuffed the bag with….

“Books.” he admits to Gladys. “For your little one.” My mouth forms an _O_ shape. I finally remember that I asked him to find some books for Jellybean! That’s why he was coming over, and it was more than just to bring Toni here! Gladys turns to me for an explanation, with a raising eyebrow. I’m a little lost for words….I mean, how can I tell Gladys that I kind of threw JB’s book report dilemma onto Hiram?

Luckily, he fills in the gaps for me. “Alice was telling me about your daughter needing options for her assignment. I had a few to spare….a lot, actually.” He meets my gaze and winks. I could laugh. With a library that huge, I’m sure he won’t be missing those books any time soon. Unless he’s one of those stickler librarians that passive aggressively taunts you about bringing back his prized possessions. Actually, Hiram becoming a librarian, or a bookseller, would suit him, much more than this gentrification job of his. The thought of him running a bookstore oddly soothes me.

Gladys mutters a thank you as Hiram gently lowers his bag of books onto the couch. He allows her time to go through the bag and read the titles so he can join my side. He glances over his shoulder at the younger Serpents in the kitchen. Joaquin can barely speak, even when Toni asks how he’s doing. My thigh itches again. I bounce on my heel to alleviate the pain.

“Did you see the massacre happen?” Hiram whispers to me. I’m too scared to look him in the eye, let alone pick up on my discomfort. I chew on the inside of my cheek, hoping I can keep it together just so I can pry information out of the boy. Hiram continues to check in on me, “It was all over the radio this morning, Alice. They couldn’t figure out what led up to it, or why---”

“It was Rose Blossom!” I hiss at him. I admit, it was harsh on my end, but in my defense, I’m running on bitter caffeine and five hours of sleep. I lean into Hiram so the others don’t hear, “He was going after her. The rest of the massacre was a cover-up. I didn’t know the specifics until Joaquin arrived.”

His eyes light up in fear. I see them glance down at my bouncing leg, my twitching arm. Any limb of mine moving abnormally. Should I have told him about my vision from the night before? Probably. But I didn’t want to take away from his time with Veronica….if he did get time with her. Plus, I was preoccupied with checking up on FP and Gladys, and helping Toni with her shop. Hal’s attack on the Sisters was only a footnote. What a big mistake on my end.

I can see the question forming on his tongue. _Why didn’t you say anything to me, Alice? You could have told me you were in pain._ I’m not in the mood to hear it. No….I’m not ready to admit why I kept my mouth shut until now.

So, when Hiram goes to open his mouth, to ask me, I interject. “I think he cut me off from seeing it.” It’s a wild theory, already building on what I fearfully believe, but it shuts him up. I continue my hushed ranting, “He knows that I can see him when he kills. I think he found out the night we tired to hunt him down at the school. That’s why I didn’t know about Rose, and the others at the Sisters.”

He nods his head slowly. I could add more, but I’m worn out from this constant worrying. And good thing I do, because like clockwork, Hiram finishes my thought. “He wants to wear you out by chasing him. He found a way to slow us down.” Pain sweeps over his face. The phrase, _I’m sorry_ , dances along his eyelashes. Something metallic mixes in with my saliva. The inside of my cheek feels raw. I only now realize that I bit my cheek to the point of it bleeding.

I end up bringing my gaze back to Joaquin. I release my teeth from my wounded flesh inside my mouth. I have to know what happened to him. I need to know what made Rose Blossom the new target.

Toni comes over to us, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “I can’t get anything out of him. I don’t think I’ve seen him this quiet, or shaken up.” I feel awful for her. I took her away from taking part in a peaceful protest just so she can tend to her friend. I only hope that the protest went well in her favor, that she could build up the necessary connections to spread the word of the Uktena. I should ask her about it before I lose my chance. But not now.

Hiram takes a moment to study the nurse, now clean from the physical elements proving his survival. He turns to Toni, “Is he….I mean, can he speak Spanish?”

Suddenly, Joaquin pipes up, speaking directly to Hiram. “ _¿Por qué no vienes y me preguntas eso tú mismo, cabrón?_ ” The words fly out of his mouth, getting blurred by his dialect. Hiram can only stare at the younger man with a shocked expression. When I finally process what the younger man just said, I almost snort out laughing. _Why don’t you come over and ask me that yourself, dumbass?_

Joaquin looks my way and smirks. “What? I’m bilingual. My brother and I both are.” He pulls one of his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around it. Hiram’s still flabbergasted by his commentary. I’m caught up in the latest detail. Joaquin has a brother? What will this massacre deal mean for his family?

I take this opportunity to help break the ice between Hiram and Joaquin. I half-lead Hiram into the kitchen, telling him, “Go, it’s okay. Let us know if we need to listen in on anything.” He gives me a weary nod, then he makes his way over to Joaquin. He takes the seat across from the young man, letting the silence drag out a little bit longer. Eventually, he starts conversing with Joaquin in their native tongues.

Toni takes hold of my arm, capturing my attention. “Good thing you told me to come over. I knew Joaquin was struggling at his job….but this is beyond horrible.” I look away from Hiram and Joaquin to find Toni frowning. “We’re the closest out of our friend group. We consider each other family.”

“I’m sorry if I pulled you out of that protest to come help.” I express my guilt to her. “I knew it was important to you---”

“Don’t sweat it.” she smirks at me. “It was at a breaking point when I got your text about Joaquin. I didn’t miss out on anything.” She glances down at the floor for a little bit. Strange enough, I notice the corners of her mouth lift. “In fact, I figured out how I’m going to get the Uktena back.”

My eyes widen in excitement. I turn to Gladys, motioning for her to come and join the two of us, mouthing _Uktena_. Gladys rushes over, asking Toni what she means. The younger Serpent grins. “I met another Southside activist, she has a group of us younger members together. I made a speech at the protest, which sparked interest from her and her group.” She has to pause before she can cut to the big reveal. “I’ve been invited to attend a meeting tonight. And hopefully, if I keep going to more, I can figure out how to reclaim the Uktena, or at least to start a new group altogether.” By now, she’s full on grinning, and so are we.

If there’s any spark of good that came out of this weird ass day, it’s Toni making headway in her personal goals. I could squeal in excitement! I’m over the moon for her! Gladys starts tearing up in pure happiness. She pulls the younger witch in for a warming embrace, whispering, “That’s amazing, hon!” They rock back and forth for a little while as I remain in the background. I’m half paying attention to Toni’s excellent news and trying to listen in on Hiram’s interview with Joaquin. The younger man seems more comfortable speaking with Hiram, so I guess that’s a good thing too. Everyone seems to be fine when I’m not in the picture. Maybe that’s the way it was meant to be.

“Hey.” Toni calls out to me. I turn around to find the younger witch squeezing my upper arm, a sympathetic gesture. She glances down at my thigh, “How’s your leg doing?”

“Much better. Whatever you gave me, it’s working.” I confess, and Toni grins at me. I’m happy that she’s doing well, following the disaster from this weekend. I get thinking about her newly formed group, does she know where her meeting will occur? Does the group need a place to hold their meetings?

I go to ask, but I don’t get my chance. Hiram calls out to the three of us, “Ladies. You might want to hear this.”

I finally look over and see why Hiram called for us. I watch him rise up slowly, almost like a zombie. Because, well shit, he looks exactly like a zombie now. His face has lost all of its color. And for whatever reason, he won’t stop looking at me. Now I’m starting to panic. What the hell did Joaquin just confess to him?

Gladys moves around Toni and me, standing between both groups. She crosses her arms at Hiram before looking over sympathetically at Joaquin. “Did you see the guy?” she asks. The poor kid probably has no idea who she’s referring to, but Toni and I pick up on her words. She’s asking about Hal.

Joaquin shakes his head. “Everything happened so quickly, I never got a good look at the creep. I was trying to help survivors get out through the underground tunnels of the place. It’s how we got away.”

“Tell them what you told me.” Hiram cues the young nurse, his face still pale. His lips quiver when he meets my gaze again. Okay, whatever he’s trying to make Joaquin open up about, it’s putting me on edge. And it’s making my wounds worse.

I’m about ready to send myself into a coma with a healing spell when Joaquin breaks the silence. “Rose got visitors the day before she died.” We all turn to him, guilt painted all over his face. The only person he’ll look at is Gladys. “It was your boy, Missus Jones.”

Gladys adopts the zombie-look to match Hiram. She stumbles backwards, her heart sinking to the floor. She braces herself against the kitchen counter. As for me, I’m half in a daze. Wasn’t Jughead supposed to be at the library with Sabrina?

No. No….she couldn’t have lied to me. She’s still sick, she’s catching up on homework. When would have Sabrina or Jughead had time to make a trip out of town to a nursing home? Why would they…. No, I’m jumping to conclusions. Perhaps Jughead went on his own. But according to Joaquin’s current expression, maybe not.

“I’m sorry, Missus Jones.” Joaquin croaks out. “I don’t want to get your boy in trouble. But he was there, doing some article for the school paper on the Reaper.” Another punch to the gut. Sweat drips down my back. My heart pounds twenty miles a second. I look over at Hiram, then to Gladys, then Toni. We all share a communal look of fear.

Jughead is writing about Hal. WHY?

Gladys gains the courage to speak up on behalf of all of us. “Was….was there anyone with him? Did he see Rose Blossom by himself?” Joaquin releases his foot to the floor. His hands find their place in his lap, fingers picking at hang nails. He bites his lip nervously. More silence.

“A blonde. Tiny thing too. She got sick during the interview, and I had to tend to her afterwards. I think her name was….Sabrina.”

My brain splits in half. My heart goes off like a bomb. I can’t think straight. I can’t keep my balance. My ears block out the noise around me. The others call for me, but I ignore them. I make a run for the door, stumbling outside into the cold. I’m dizzy, I’m paranoid, but most importantly, I’m furious. My mouth remains clamped shut, but my mind is screaming. NO, SABRINA. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

I collapse into the snow, my face getting hot, my eyes getting wet. I don’t know what is worse – the fact that I just learned Sabrina and Jughead are doing research on Hal, and they may get thrown into his path of destruction, or that Sabrina has been lying to me about her time with Jughead by going off and doing this? Does she not understand how dangerous the whole thing is? How can I protect her if she’s running headfirst into a hurricane of chaos? And….and WHY DIDN’T I HAVE THE BALLS TO TELL HER EVERYTHING ABOUT HAL? WHAT HAVE I DONE?

My rage and despair matches the intense emotions I felt when I ran out to the forest weeks ago. My choking out of tears turns into screams. I pound my fists into the snow, sending the cold element of nature into the air. The ground breaks beneath me. My head rests over my kneecaps. My hands cradle my head, vibrating as I continue to wreck my voice. My thigh and my forearm ache from my lack of control. I can’t fully blame Sabrina for her curiosity, and for her helpfulness. I let her run into the dark without a flashlight. But if Joaquin is right, if Jughead is writing an article about the Riverdale Reap…. No, Hal…..

I can’t guarantee her safety. I can’t guarantee bringing her home safe and sound to the Spellmans and the Church of Night. No wonder Zelda and Hilda didn’t trust me, no wonder they haven’t responded back to my letters. They probably decided to let Sabrina and me destroy each other so they wouldn’t grieve their losses.

I hate them. I hate everyone in that coven. I hate myself.

And most of all….I hate him.

My senses pick up on the sound of rushed footsteps and crushed snow. When I finally manage to lift my head up, I feel the blood trickling down my nose, the tickle rising in my throat. Great. Way to stay calm, Alice. My whole body feels tense and sore. All I want now is to slide into a bath and let all this stress melt away. But I also need to talk Sabrina and Jughead out of publishing that article before more blood is shed. Before Hal destroys Riverdale from the inside out.

A pair of hands take hold of my shoulders. By now, I don’t have to look up or listen for a voice to know who it is beside me. Who has been one of my rocks since this whole nightmare started. I allow Hiram to cradle me against him, letting me take in some warmth. I rest my forehead on the crook of his neck, I cling to him for dear life. We don’t say a word for a good amount of time. We know each other enough by now that I don’t really want to talk about what I just heard until I can process it all. I know he and I, and now the Joneses, will need to consider where we’ll go from here. What the next steps will have to be to protect the ones we love. I’m thankful it’s Hiram out here with me. I wouldn’t have minded Gladys or Toni running out to bring me back. But something about Hiram brings me comfort. He doesn’t badger me with questions. He just stays. He’s a light out of this never-ending darkness. And that’s enough for me.

Minutes pass with us like this. Eventually, we each break away, his face still ghostly, mine stained with blood and tears. We sort of just stare at each other for a while, not sure of who will raise their voice first. We go this way until Hiram clears his throat, biting the inside of his cheek.

“So….” he begins in a wavering tone, “what do we do now, Acid Queen Alice?” I could laugh, but I’m worried it would send the wrong message. It’s obvious that he gets my frustration, as well as my guilt. His tone reminds me eerily of how I spoke with FP after finding Senior’s books. How did FP handle the aftermath with Jughead? Clearly, he didn’t know better, as does Sabrina about my past. As does Veronica about Hiram and Hermione not really being her parents.

My conversation with FP from earlier resurfaces in my head, our words blending together. _Aren’t we the pair of unheavenly creatures?_ Come to think of it, we all screwed over these kids in some way. We all buried secrets like corpses, wiped blood off from seeping wounds, and vowed never to have our kids make the same mistakes. And look how that turned out for us.

What is there left for me to do? Let Sabrina stay in a town that’s destined to eat us all alive? Or do I risk….do I risk bringing her back to Greendale? To return Sabrina to her Aunts and Ambrose, and insist that they get her trial over and done with? And that in the meantime, Hiram, FP, Gladys, Toni (only if she chooses) and I can finish what we started? Maybe I’m jumping into this decision too damn fast. If you’d ask me about sending Sabrina back home a month ago, when Hiram and I made that arranged deal, I wouldn’t have believed a word coming out of anyone’s mouth. But now….it’s all changed. And at this point, it might be the only way I can Sabrina alive.

I’ll need to flesh out this idea later when I’m not achy all over. So, I tell Hiram, “We sit the kids down. All of them, together. And we tell them everything.” He takes his time to give me a nonverbal response, a simple nod. He’s dazed, I can tell, but he understands. We have no other choice but to own up to our vices. And it may mean Hiram has to tell Veronica that she’s not really a Lodge.

“Think you can handle that, Manhattan?”

He lets out a brief chuckle, his lips forming a tight smirk. “It was going to happen one way or another. But you won’t be alone on this, Alice.” He reaches for my hand, running his thumb across the tops of my fingers. The smirk shifts into a grin. “I’m by your side, whatever happens. Okay?”

My heart practically leaps out of my chest. My cheeks soften, no longer feeling as heavy. Wow, was Hiram planning on dropping that little vow to me so suddenly? I need to get myself together. I bobble my head side to side and nibble on my lip. I can taste some of the blood that came out of my nose, mixed with a few of my tears. The salty, metallic combination nauseates me a little, but I can manage through it.

I wait another moment, then I nod. I allow myself to breathe. To smile a bit. It lightens my mood, and it lightens up his. I wish I could pause this moment and take a picture of it. After all we’ve been through, it’d be rare for someone to find Hiram and me smiling. Being so at peace in each other’s company. Yet here we are. I mentally add this little moment to my brief list of good things in my life.

The moment ends rather quickly, but not by our own doing. Gladys’s dashing down the steps of the trailer, practically out of breath by the time she reaches us. Hiram and I both stand up, still holding onto one another’s hands. Panic sweeps over her face. Did something happen to Joaquin? To Toni?

That’s when I finally notice the phone in her hand. And a frantic voice coming out the other end. I swear it almost sounds like….like Jughead.

“You two need to get your asses to the school. Now.” Gladys breathes heavily. I’m beginning to grow worried. Every worse case scenario plays in my head. What happened? Hiram and I speak over one another for a moment, trying to explain to Gladys of our strategy, then stop. I let him do the talking, but he doesn’t get much time. Gladys cuts him off, “We don’t have time for that now, Lodge! It’s your daughter!”

His eyes light up, his jaw tightens. _It’s your daughter…._ I look to Gladys for an explanation. She can’t make out the words, and Jughead’s mumbled voice over the phone gets louder. The hand gripping mine goes stiff. I end up looking over at Hiram. His face has gone full-on white. No….green. His eyes express an indescribable fear. A lone tear streams down his cheek.

I can only come to one conclusion. It makes my stomach twist to knots. It makes my wounds flare up. But why else would FP and Gladys’s son be calling about Hiram’s daughter. Only one possibility could explain the franticness.

Hal returned to Riverdale High, and he hurt Veronica.

XXXXXXXX

SABRINA

I’ve heard the name before. I came to this realization after all the time Jughead and I spent finishing the article. After I tried to shove the thoughts of Salem killing Rose Blossom out of my conscious. It came to me last night, when laying in bed waiting for my brain to shut off. I heard the name Hal Cooper before I heard Rose Blossom’s daughter speak it.

The thought stayed on my brain all morning, it distracted me from jumping back into my classes. Jughead and I could not find anything on the man from our research the night before, or in between classes. But I’m not that mad about this distraction. It kept me from engaging with everyone at school when they came over to ask how I was. I would love to catch up, I want to acclimate as much as possible. But I’m drained, I’m angry, and I want Salem gone. He killed Rose Blossom. He’s kept me away from V. And I don’t think he’ll ever stop until one of us is dead.

Frankly, I’m glad Hal Cooper is my priority. V and I never got to meet up for breakfast, like we planned. She claimed that she had to run through “things” with the cheer team. And Ali…. I don’t know what exactly happened to her over the weekend, but she’s been acting strange. No….she’s been secretive. She’s hiding something from me. Okay, maybe the whole Salem ordeal is making me paranoid, but Ali’s behavior hasn’t proved anything in her favor. She barely talked to me last night, mostly because she spent a good amount of time in the bathroom. She disappeared earlier this morning and didn’t come back until I got up. I just wash she could tell me what was happening in her neck of the woods.

But I get scared if I think too much about Ali, because all it does is bring back the harsh voice of that boy in Rose’s vision. The one who murdered the red-head girl. _Why don’t you ask your Aunt Ali_ , he asked me. I still don’t know what he means. It could apply to a number of things, like my trial, or of her life. Heaven, it could apply to Hal Cooper….

I heard it before.

Was that what the boy meant? Did he want me to ask her about Hal? Why? Whatever the reason, I don’t want it to make me sick again. I have had enough of Salem and his tricks. I have had enough of people lying to me, and telling me what to do. I want to do things for myself. And currently, what I want is to find this man and help Jughead get that article out.

A little after lunch, Jughead and I decide to spend our study hall time in the Blue and Gold Room. He pulls up the most recent copy of the article on his laptop for us to view. He lets me sit down so I can get a better look as he stands over my shoulder. Structure wise, it’s strong. We kept Joaquin’s testimony anonymous, but we left Moose’s stance alone. We don’t allude to any supernatural elements, though. As much as I would love to bring Salem’s wrongdoings into the spotlight, not everyone would get it. We end the article asking for the PD to recognize the recent deaths as all part of one pattern, one that mimics all these events from Riverdale’s history. We ask for the truth to prevail, for justice to be served.

“How soon do you think we can get this out?” I look back up at Jughead when I’m finished reading.

He shrugs his shoulders. “Before the end of the week. We have to compile other articles along with this one. Worse case, we could publish it independently on a blog site, or we could sell it to the Register and split the revenue.” The last comment makes us both chuckle. If only I could use that money to settle my own case against the Dark Lord….

I wince suddenly. I keep forgetting about my trial. Out of instinct, I reach for my neckline, hoping Dad’s necklace to bring me comfort. That is, until I realize I haven’t worn it in days. And today, it just so happens that I left it back at the trailer.

Jughead notices my current state. “What’s wrong? Your sickness come back?” I shake my head, since I can’t get the words out. Jughead reaches for his laptop and closes the screen down. “Thinking about home again?” I chew on my tongue, which leads me to biting my cheeks. After this, I nod.

“I would….like if we got this done before…..” I sigh, “Before I’m shuttled back home.” Saying this, Jughead grabs a free chair from the corner of the room. He brings it next to me and sits down.

“Did they finally give you an update on your trial?” I shake my head.

“Haven’t heard from Aunties in a long time, Jug. Not since Thanksgiving. When we were driving to the Sisters….I was tempted to ask you to stop by Greendale. Just so I could see them again. But….I’m angry right now. I’m angry at the town. At my family. I just don’t get why they would leave me in the dark for so long. Usually any trial going through the Church would happen immediately after the suit is announced. But for mine to have stalled out in this way…..” I bite the insides of my cheeks again, a numbing mechanism. Once I release the flesh from my teeth, I run my fingers through my hair. I huff, “None of it makes sense, Jughead.”

“Yeah, that does sound weird. I mean, who is it exactly that you’re going up against? Satan himself?” He chuckles at his joke. Little does he know that he’s stating facts. I shoot my eyebrow up to the ceiling with a stern face. It doesn’t take him long to put two and two together. Once he does, he drops the comedic meaner. “Oh….oh shit.”

“NOW do you see my issue?” I throw out at him, jerking my head forward. “I’d be spending my days finding a way to climb out of the nine layers of hell to get away from him if I weren’t here. Or I’d be forced into marrying a sea monster, or something awful like that.” My mood does lift slightly when I bring up these scenarios, it even makes me giggle. I needed this, I needed friends I can share this private information with and not risk judgement or isolation. Not that I haven’t thought about opening up more to Roz and Susie, but I fear I’d get the same reaction out of them that I did from Harvey. Yet, talking with Jughead feels like I’m talking with Ambrose, if he were non-magical and had a passion for dark academia and food instead of music. If only V were here with us….

My temporary good mood fades. Thinking about V again refuels my anger at Salem, my worry for her. Why couldn’t she meet up for breakfast today? I don’t have time to answer my own question, because Jughead distracts me with a new one. “Have you talked with Veronica about any of this? Considering that she’s like you?”

I shake my head in defeat. “Nothing new. I still haven’t seen her since I fell under the weather. She got Salem out of the trailer park, and….nothing. Just some texts about Salem. Nothing about her. Or me.” I bring my feet up to the edge of the chair, wrapping my arms over my kneecaps in a ball shape. I rest my chin on my knees and bow my head down. Everything has gotten so confusing. I hate being left in the dark. I only hope I can get some sort of sign that can guide me in the proper direction, one that will get me off of _GO_.

Right on command, there’s a commotion in the hallway. Jughead and I turn to the door, seeing movement from outside the little window on the door. We both get up from the desk area and make our way over to the doorway. We see flashes of blue and yellow stride down the hallway, pom poms glistening in the lights up above. No one told me the Vixens would be all dressed up, or that….

Wait, is this of V’s doing? Was this the reason she couldn’t meet up this morning? No….no, it was because of Salem. He kept her away. She couldn’t have made the Vixens under her spell. Not after the way they turned against her under Midge’s reign. But if Midge is dead….who is running the Vixens? Ginger? Tina? I scan the faces of my teammates, looking for any sort of explanation. I open up the door, ignoring Jughead’s plea for me to wait. Some of the Vixens sport me, waving hello. Yet, I’m not interested in returning the gesture. I want to find my friend.

Everyone has gathered out into the hallway to see what the commotion is all about. The Vixens begin to perform chants, simple ones we did at the pep rally. It makes no sense. What could prompt them to lead a rally out in the hallway? Is it in solidarity of the protests happening throughout town? It’s just so strange; I would have been made known about it, at least through text or email. I fight my way through the crowd to get a better look at what’s happening. Some of the Bulldogs chant with them nonchalantly, other students bob their heads in confusion. Jughead struggles to keep up with me, having to reach out for my arm to stay close behind. Just a few people ahead of us, Archie and Reggie stand against the lockers, witnessing the unusual scene.

Archie spots me and heads in our direction. “Jug, Sabrina. Do you know what’s going on?”

“We just heard it.” Jughead backs away as a Vixen almost whacks him in the face with a pom pom.

“Dude, this is so random.” Reggie comments. “But hey, if it gets out of studying for midterms, I’ll take it.” I don’t think he noticed I was here until he looks down at me. He points over at the Vixens, “Hey…shouldn’t you be with them right now?” I don’t say anything back. I should, I mean, I wasn’t here last week! Did anyone besides Jughead and V not know of my absence? Maybe I should speak up! I did it against Salem! No….no, I shouldn’t think about him either. Oh, I’m getting so distracted and flighty. Where is V?

From the other end of the hallway, a Vixen faces the crowd. The chanting overpowers the noise in the hallway. Everyone’s so caught up watching the rest of the team that no one else sees my reaction. My sense of relief, and concern. Far away, V calls out to me. “’Brina!”

I have to fight my way through hoards of classmates as V and I move towards one away. She squeezes between the gaps and reaches out for me. My arms wrap around her, my chin rests on her shoulder. She does the same, just holding me steady.

She pulls away slightly so she can look at me. “I’m sorry I couldn’t meet up earlier.” she has to shout over the loudness. “I was so caught up getting this prepared---"

“Ronnie,” Archie interrupts our reunion. “what’s this all about?” My mouth hangs a bit. I can’t believe Archie beat me to asking the question. I’m shocked he and the others have just as much concern. Maybe it is a good thing they have no clue about Salem.

We all turn to her, waiting for some form of an explanation. I can see the panic spreading over her face. She wants to maintain a good demeanor, she’s brought the whole cheer team to perform in front of the whole school. Why would she decide to do this? Was this….was this really even her idea to begin with?

That’s when I realize that V does not have her pearls around her neck.

“V, we need to talk. Now.” I take her hands, attempting to pull her away, to go somewhere where there are no Vixens, or Bulldogs, or demonic cats. Someplace where it can just be the two of us. She goes to ask why we need to do this, why now when the team is waiting for her. I turn my head back to her. “You have to trust me, V.” I glance over the crowd, just to be safe. Then, I lean closer to her. “It’s about Salem.”

Her eyes go big. Slowly, she starts to get it. I watch her lift one finger, signaling for me to wait. Behind her, Ginger and Tina wander over to see what the problem is. V frees herself from my hold and goes to them. “Can you two take over? Just until I get back?” They both nod without much hesitation. V comes back over to me, and we move away from the hectic scene. I hear Ginger and Tina’s voices boom as I shuttle V and myself into an empty classroom.

I shut the door, looking out the window to see if anyone is watching us. I wait for my heartbeat to slow down before I can peel myself away. Behind me, V takes a deep breath.

“‘Brina, I promise I’ve been keeping a good eye on him.” she says. I move away from the door and wander over to her. She continues to ramble on, “Apart from him growling at Daddy on a frequent basis, he’s been on his best behavior around me. It….” V stops for a moment, guilt setting in. “It was actually his idea for me to lead the Vixens in an impromptu pep rally today. That’s why I couldn’t meet up this morning.”

Okay, now it’s starting to make sense. I knew V couldn’t have skipped out on breakfast intentionally. Then what could possibly explain the absence of her pearls? And what about her absence during my meeting with Salem? Hold on….I need to take this one step at a time. I gesture to her neckline, about to raise the concern.

V brings a hand to her neck, a smile forming. “Oh….yeah. And, I’m trying to not wear my pearls as much. At least not while I’m at school.”

“Was that Salem’s idea too?” my own voice comes out meek.

“Partially. But I wanted to do it for myself.” she admits before biting her lip. She peels her hand away and crosses her arms over her stomach. “Salem was right, ‘Brina. I need to learn to take power for myself, to let it come to its full potential. I think I’m starting to develop a symbiotic relationship with my condition….like you suggested I should.” I see a miniscule smile form on her lips. “I don’t feel as out of control as I was before. I feel calmer, more….at peace with myself. You know, it’s funny, ‘Brina. I think I’ve had more rest since I took Salem in. I actually slept a long time yesterday.”

The last sentence sits with me funny. V getting more sleep….on paper, it sounds good, but…. Salem said V was resting when I met with him last night. He dodged the topic immediately afterwards. No….there has to be a reason he convinced her to have the Vixens do a pep rally today. There has to be a reason he ditched her to…..

“‘Brina?” V pulls me out of my thoughts. I notice her smile has disappeared. “What’s wrong?”

“How long were you out for?” She blinks at me, unsure of what I mean. She stares down at the ground with her mouth gaping. It takes her a while before she can look back up at me. She goes to speak, but I jump at the chance. “V, how long were you resting for yesterday?”

“A….a few hours. Why?” My heart drops to the linoleum floor. So she really did have no idea what Salem was up to….

Her eyes light up in fear. Her jaw tenses up. She nervously reaches for her neckline, only to realize that she did not put on her pearl necklace. Dread sets in. The veins hidden under her skin go from light blue to dark violet. Her wrist shakes with her fingers curling into fists. Her breathing becomes more weighted. Heavier.

I take her by the shoulders. The breathing levels out. The shaking of her wrist stops. I tell her in a hushed voice, “Salem killed last night. He did it while you were out.” She remains mute, and extremely confused. I explain to her, “I used an Astral Projection Spell to see him after he threatened Jughead about the article! He pried a name out of me, even though I tried to resist. And now….now a woman Jughead and I met with over the weekend might be dead. V….I think he knocked you out on purpose so he could kill her.”

“‘Brina…..I don’t understand---”

“That’s how he was able to kill Midge! It’s why I had my seizure! V, don’t you understand? Salem drained me of my magic! And….and I think he did the same to you. Only you may not have known it.” Her hand lowers back down to her sides. The veins still remain in their abnormal color. If not….darker. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to ambush her with all of this material. What if she ends up lashing out, what if she loses control? And if her father finds out…..

V begins to hyperventilate, the black veins spreading throughout her neck. I move my hands upward so I’m cupping her face. “V…..look at me. Take deep breaths, okay?” She tries to do as I asked, but it’s not working. I can feel the windows in the room vibrating. The rafters above us begin to rattle. Eventually, V does start to breathe in and out, in and out. The noise in the room ceases. Everything goes quiet, except for the sound of our breathing.

“I….I just don’t get it.” she finally says after gulping down saliva. She wavers her head back and forth. “Salem…..he, he wouldn’t do that. No. He’s never been that way with me. Why would….why would he suggest that I…..that I…..”

Just as her voice goes out, a blood curling scream emerges from the hallway. Both of our heads turn to the source of the noise. More screams pile over one another. That’s not good.

I take V’s hand and we make a break for the door. I twist the doorhandle in a hurry, slamming it down and feeling the gush of air greet me as we step out. Mass hysteria floods the hallway. I can’t tell why everyone is suddenly freaking out. I have to shove my way through the herd of people to even see what’s happening. When V and I do make our way to the front, we stop. Sweat drips down my back. My mouth is frozen in an open gesture. My eyes are bulging.

In the middle of the hallway, the Vixens are sprawled out on the floor, having violent seizures. Just the way Ali did when we first arrived. The way I did when Salem made me sick.

People shout all around us. “What’s happening?” “How come it’s just the cheerleaders and not the rest of us?” “Somebody get help!”

A few Vixens have been spared from the violent seizures. Tina frantically tries to shake Ginger out of her faze. Archie, Reggie, and a couple of the other football players follow in suit. Jughead sees V and me, and he drags us away from our crowded location. “You don’t think this is Salem’s doing, do you?”

I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know what I should do to help. Do I risk exposing myself as a witch and get the Vixens cured? Or do I stay back and let them all suffer? I hate feeling so helpless. But….but that was the way I felt when Midge got possessed by Salem in the last moments of her life. I left her to die. And now the Vixens will suffer the same fate if I….

Screw it. I break away from Jughead and from V. “Stay here.” I tell them, and I run over to aid Tina. Only my aid does not prove anything beneficial.

Tina glares up at me, in fear and in pure anger. “Please….” I say to her, about to reach down for Ginger. “I can make her okay---”

“Don’t touch her!” Tina shoves me away, almost sending me to the ground. I get up on my feet and back away. Tina rises up from her place, practically hovering over Ginger. Her eyes widen, revealing the blaring whiteness surrounding her irises. The others in the hallway begin to pick up on our interaction.

I go to diffuse the situation. “Tina---”

“Get the hell out, Sabrina!” She yells. The hallway goes silent. Tears form in her eyes. She raises a finger up at me, “YOU DID THIS. YOU AND…..YOU AND VERONICA PLANNED THIS TOGETHER!” Other students, unaffected by the violent seizures, begin to join in unison. I back away all frightened. I don’t get it – why does Tina think this was of my doing? Of V’s doing?

She continues her rant, “AND YOU WERE THERE WHEN MIDGE DIED! HOW WE KNOW YOU DIDN’T PLAN HER DEATH TOO!”

“Tina, knock it off!” Archie steps in the middle of our space, coming to my defense. He gestures back to me. “She and Ronnie didn’t do anything! We don’t have time to play _Nancy Drew_! We gotta get these girls help---”

His speech is cut short when Tina pushes him off to the side. Her fists are curled at her sides. By now, more students are leaving their perspective Vixens on the floor and taking Tina’s stance. Others like Archie, like Reggie and a few other Bulldogs, remain to the sides. Jughead and V remain behind me.

“I don’t know why Midge ever kept you on the team.” Tina states. “But now that she’s dead, I won’t let her legacy be tarnished. We will bring Midge justice….but you won’t be part of that. You or Veronica. You have no place in our community anymore.”

No noise wanders through the halls for a solid moment. Just the air above us, and the Vixens spasming down below.

Then, all hell breaks loose.

Students yell, “GET THE HELL OUT OF OUR SCHOOL!” “YOU’RE A MURDERER!” “FREAK!” It’s worse than I imagined. It’s worse than the wrath I faced on my birthday. But I brought this onto myself. I brought Salem out of that house, and I led my classmates into his deadly path. And now, V and I are about to get burned at a stake for his crimes.

My ears ring, drowning out the yelling. My vision blurs. Some of the students climb over the Vixens to jump out at me, but Archie and Reggie block them off. A punch gets thrown. People scatter, forming a tiny battle in the hallway. Spectators attempt to get teachers for help, to drag the Vixens out of the chaos. I can’t even imagine how V must feel right now.

V…..

I turn my head to find V practically frozen in Jughead’s grasp. No….she’s shaking. The black veins have spread all over the sides of her face. Her eyes begin to take on that same color, letting dark tears stream down her cheeks. Jughead just watches, half in awe, half in dismay.

“Sabrina….”

His calling of my name snaps me awake. I run over to V and take her into my arms. I block her view of everyone screaming and fighting, I run my hands over her cheeks. I speak in a calming tone, “V….V….can you hear me? Don’t listen to them! We’ll find a way out of this, okay?” She doesn’t say anything to me. Her shaking does calm, which I guess is a good sign. But the spreading of the dark veins worsens, which isn’t good. “V….”

She starts to choke out sobs. “I did this.”

My cheeks go heavy. My eyes get irritated and watery. “What? No….no, this had to be of Salem’s doing---”

“But it was me, ‘Brina!” she cries. Jughead meets my glance, raising a brow. I look back over at V, growing more horrified when she says, “I think I caused the Vixens to get sick when I freaked out in the classroom! I….I thought I had it all under control!”

“It was an accident, V!” I have to yell over the madness behind us. Her shaking starts up again. Her shoulders go tense, causing an overhead light at the end of the hallway to go out. Jughead stumbles back out of fright. V’s fingers crinkle at her sides. Another set of lights flicker. Her sobbing overpowers the eruption on the other side of the hallway.

“V….you have to listen to me!” I reassure her. “We can fight this, you and me. You just have to trust me, okay?”

“I….I….” she stutters, the veins spreading closer to her eyes. “I don’t know anymore! I don’t know if I can trust myself!” Her head bows slightly. I worry that she’ll get overtaken by her condition. I place my hands under her chin to keep her face upright. Jughead asks what the hell is going on, I tell him to stay quiet just so I can figure it out myself.

V glances over my shoulder at the scene behind me. Then she looks to each side, then back at me. The veins are close to touching her eye sockets.

“What’s wrong with me, ‘Brina?” she weeps. “What’s wrong with…..”

That’s when her eyes go completely dark. That’s when her body goes limp and falls to the floor.

“VERONICA!”

My knees collapse to the floor as I watch this terrifying possession. Her body contorts like the Vixens yards away from us. Dark substances drip out of her nostrils, out of the corners of her mouth. Her upper body rises and falls. I can’t just stay here and let her die. I place my hands on each side of her face to calm her motions. “V!” I call out, but with no luck. I turn my head to find the eruption in the hallway becoming more severe. What if they come our way, what if they take V away from me? I hate them, and I hate Salem for using her as a tool in his wicked plans.

Above me, Jughead freaks out. “Sabrina…..that’s not normal! We gotta get her out of here!”

“I’m trying, Jughead!” I scream up at him. “Just….just bide me some time. Call for help!” He doesn’t protest a moment further. He immediately pulls out his phone to contact someone, anyone. I direct my attention back to V start to perform a healing spell, the same one I used for Ali back at the beginning of it all. It only lasts for a few seconds before someone comes from my blind side, taking her away.

“NO!”

I stand back up, ready to fight whoever is trying to separate us, only to find…. Moose. He cradles V in his arms. He’s shaken up from the explosion, but he doesn’t look like he wants to cause any harm. In fact, I think he wants to help me. With a wispy voice, he asks, “Where do you want me to take her?”

I glance down at the end of the hallway, adjacent from where we stand. I point down to the set of doors, “Outside! Before anyone sees us!” He nods his head in agreement. I motion for Jughead to follow us as Moose takes the lead. Moose jogs with V still seizing up in his arms. I need to get my mental state together. I need to get V at least somewhat functioning before we get her to a hospital, or to her father. Whichever we have more luck with. Behind me, Jughead yells into the phone, “Mom! Please tell me Sabrina’s aunt is with you! We need Mister Lodge!”

The chaotic noise dies down when we reach the outside of the school. I could let myself fall into the snow, but Jughead keeps me going. Moose guides us over to a nearby table area. He lays V down onto a table, scared to have any part of her bruise if done incorrectly. He backs away and allows me to stand in his place.

“Should I get the school nurse?” Moose asks. I go to work on my magic (nonverbal, just so I don’t cause Moose to freak), not really listening to him. Jughead is still on the phone with his mom, so he can’t talk to either one of us. Eventually, I pause to answer his question. I tell him there’s nothing really that the nurse can do. “Okay.” he accepts my response, “Is there anything else you two need?”

“No. Thank you, Moose.” I look up at him, really studying his features. He still looks haggard even two weeks after Midge’s death. He looks more vulnerable. My eyes begin to water seeing him unable to do anything for V, or for me. I caused him to be like this. I caused to school to go into war with itself. I should have just signed my name in the Book after all, otherwise, none of this would be happening….

Moose puts on a brave face, a somewhat hopeful smile, just before he begins to walk away. He goes forward for a few steps, then he turns around. “You’re not at fault, Sabrina. I don’t blame you for this. You’re not an evil person.” I stare at him with my jaw to the snow. Is he referring to the night of Midge’s death, or the recent outbreak? Maybe I won’t get to find out now, but it sounds like…..it sounds like he forgives me. He’s giving me forgiveness, and I don’t think I deserve it. I watch as Moose smiles again before he re-enters the school.

I wipe away a newly formed tear streaming down my cheek. I look down at V, still in her violent daze, and I get back to work. Now, I am free to perform my spell out loud. I repeat the rhythm of my voice, the pronunciation of each word, my dedicated concentration. With each verse, the shaking diminishes. Limbs cease to move. Little by little, the seizure ends.

Jughead joins my side. “Your aunt’s on the way with her dad.” he says, wiping away snot with the cuff of his flannel. I look up at him, noticing how more disassociated he appears. His eyes are all snapped open. His jaw is all tense. He picks up on my intake of his features, so he forces the lump down his throat before he speaks. “My mom came off all irritated on the phone. Like I caught her in the middle of something. There were people in the background, but….I couldn’t make out who they were. Didn’t sound like your aunt, or Mister Lodge.”

My mind goes racing. Why aren’t Ali or Jughead’s mom at the diner today? What reason did Mister Lodge have to be at the trailer park with them? And….and who was also with the three of them? Perhaps members of the Serpents dropped by and gave Ali and Mrs. Jones trouble. Or Jughead’s dad still felt ill, and they were caring for him. Or….

My back stiffens. My heart pounds. My thoughts bring me back to frenzy I experienced following my disastrous meeting with Salem. “Jughead….were you ever able to get a hold of Joaquin yesterday?”

“No.” We both share an exchanged look of dread. Oh no…..no, Salem couldn’t have killed Joaquin besides Rose Blossom. I haven’t heard anything about the Sisters of Quiet Mercy during the school day. I barely had a chance to glance over the morning paper, or any articles online while Jughead and I finalized our research.

I want to keep my attention on this matter, but Jughead is shaking me by the shoulder. “Why is she not waking up?” I look down to find V still trapped in her state. No more spasms, or contortions, but her eyes still hold that dark material. Dark liquid won’t stop pouring out of her mouth, her nose, her ears. What I have done is not enough.

I bring my hands to her shoulders, making any kind of movement to rouse her awake. “V! V, can you hear me?” My heartbeat picks up, my anxiety hits an extreme height. I start to cry, “Come on, V! You can fight this! Just come back to me! Come back to us!” Jughead suggests that we try CPR, a concept not widely accepted by the witch community. I know about it through my years at mortal school, though I’ve never had a need for it. Not until now.

I let Jughead take my place as he begins to perform CPR on V. My hands jitter, though I’m not sure if it’s because of the cold, or from my anxiousness. I rub my wet cheeks against my sleeves, I try to follow Ali’s method of breathing. Smell the daisies, blow out the candles. I do it over and over. I want it to work, I want it to calm me down. But I feel like all it’s doing is making me more afraid of a lot of things. Afraid that I’ll never find out about Hal Cooper. Afraid that I’ll never amend my relationships at school (both here and at Baxter). Afraid that I will never get V back.

A car screeches in the distance and comes to rather the quickened halt. I jump back, not knowing where this jarring sound is coming from. I finally notice the red sports car at the curb. Figures climb out of the vehicle, scrambling to find….me and Jughead. I can barely make out Mister Lodge in the distance, but there’s a panic painted on to his face. Especially when he sees his daughter.

“¡ _MIJA_!”

He sprints all the way to where Jughead and I stand. Behind him, Ali jogs over, just as equally petrified. The moment the adults come closer, Mister Lodge grabs Jughead by the shoulders and forces him away from V. He screams at Jughead, “WHO DID THIS? WHAT HAPPENED TO MY DAUGHTER?”

I step in. My voice shakes when I explain, “She had a seizure. All the Vixens did. But….but she….” I can’t get the rest of the words out. I can only gesture over to her, feeling my heart creep up my throat. “I tried everything. I can’t get her out of it.”

Mister Lodge seems to buy my words. He lets go of Jughead, then he hustles over to his daughter. He takes her down from the top of the table, cradling her in his lap as he sits down. He cups her face, looking for any sign of life. All he can find is the dark veins, overtaken eyes, and lifelessness. Just the way I did.

“Hang on, _mija_.” Mister Lodge lifts V closer up so her forehead rests against his shoulder. He keeps a good hold of her head, and he starts to mutter something in her ear. A spell? Whatever he’s saying, it slowly causes the dark veins the recede, moving away from her eye sockets. The liquid coming out of her nose and mouth dry up. Is this spell meant to cure her? It’s mesmerizing and horrifying all at once.

Ali joins my side, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Sweetheart, are you alright?” I glance up at her, almost startled by her presence. I shouldn’t be as jumpy, I can’t be. It’s Ali. But why has everything made me so skeptical over the people I care about the most?

“I don’t want to talk about it now, Ali.” I take a step away from her, moving closer to Jughead. I nervously begin to rub at my arm. Even though I can no longer hear the chaos inside the school, I can still hear the shouting in my head. It intermingles with someone’s laughter. You know what the sad part is? I can’t distinguish if the laugh belongs to Salem or the Dark Lord.

Imagine if the Dark Lord heard about my issues now. He’d find some way to include this material in our trial, utilizing it to his full advantage to force me down the Path of Night. All because I wanted guidance. All because I sought out the Riverdale Reaper. And Jughead and I still don’t know the history connecting the Blossoms to Hal Cooper….

I heard the name before. The longer I look at Ali, the more I come to understand where I may have heard of Hal Cooper long before I met Rose Blossom. The daughter said his name in connection to an Alice Smith. My Aunt Ali. But she would have told me about him if he really was part of her past. She would have warned me to stay away from the Blossoms and from him if they truly were problems in her life. But she hasn’t told me anything about any of her past. Nothing about the Joneses. Nothing about Mister Lodge. Nothing about the Blossoms, or the high school, or….

“Sabrina?” Jughead calls out for me. I look over at him, watching how he tenses up with the adults around. Mister Lodge is still using his spell to bring V back. Ali doesn’t know how to handle my jerky reaction. Jughead whispers into my ear, “Do you still wanna go forward with the article?”

My gaze wanders back over to Ali for a brief second. I have to look away from her before I respond with, “It doesn’t matter, Jug. We already committed to it.”

“But what about our classmates?” he asks me, all paranoid. He lowers his voice down further for the next question. “Aren’t you worried that…..that when they read it---”

“When they read what?”

The sound of Ali’s voice intercepting our conversation stuns us both into silence. Jughead and I send her a worried glance. I don’t think I’ve seen Ali this on edge since her attack. No….I don’t think I’ve seen her this wound up ever. How could she even overhear our conversation? Oh right, she’s got heightened senses like me. But does she…. How could Ali know about….

“I know about your Reaper article, Sabrina!” Ali announces out of the blue. I feel my jaw lock. My eyes water more. She knows. That means Jughead’s mom and Mister Lodge must know too. But how? We acted so careful about the subject! Someone must have squealed on us. Jughead’s sister must have found out, but she wouldn’t do that. Maybe V? No….no, V was passed out and with Salem. I go to ask Ali how she found out, but I don’t get the chance. Well, only because Ali already goes to say, “Your friend from the Sisters, Joaquin….he told us everything. How you met Rose Blossom.” Her eyes get wet, her hands go through her hair. She’s shaking. “What were you doing at the Sisters?”

Her tone is beginning to scare me. I practically back into Jughead, reaching for his hands. I shouldn’t be cowering from someone like Ali. I shouldn’t cower away, ever. What is changing? I’m on my toes here. But all Jughead can respond with is, “Joaquin’s alive?”

Ali runs her fingers through her hair again. “Look….I don’t want to impose on your paper. I don’t want to stop you from anything. But….Sabrina….” She looks directly down at me. She takes a step towards me, reaching for my hand. “Please. Trust me when I say…..this article may not be a good idea.”

Anger rises in me. Now she suddenly has an opinion on my affairs? After all this time? I don’t let my sudden flare up shy away in my voice when I tell her, “Since when did you start caring about my safety?” I detach myself from Jughead, meeting Ali’s advances forward. I watch her lips bobble. She goes to speak, but I cut her off.

“Why now are you freaking out, Ali? I have tried to reach out to you, but…..but all you have done is cut me off! You just ran away!” In my head, I know I’m acting rather harsh. She looked after me during my cheerleading crisis. She stood by me before we came to Riverdale. She tended to me in sickness. But after all the times she promised to tell me her life story, she has yet to follow up on those promises. She has yet to disclose how her classmates died, why she left town, why my classmates and I are on the verge of following the same path. And the only outlying piece is….

Hal.

Now I remember where I heard the name. In her voice. When I was out. She said his name when I came out of my post-seizure coma.

_You don’t think this is Hal’s doing, is it?_

She did know him. She knew him all along.

The Dark Lord’s voice seeps into my head, taunting me the way he did when he possessed Midge. **_YOU THINK YOU’RE BEING PROTECTED, COMFORTED BY PEOPLE WHO ARE ONLY LYING TO YOU._**

Was he the reason she left Riverdale? Did he cause those kids to die? Well, how can I know if she won’t tell me? Will she ever tell me?

**_YOU THINK YOU’RE BEING PROTECTED BY PEOPLE WHO LIE TO YOU. THEY’RE ALL LYING TO YOU._ **

No. I won’t have any more of this. No more secrets. No more lies.

I let my anger fly out of me. “What is it about exposing the Reaper that scares you, Ali? WHAT ARE YOU HIDING FROM ME?”

The trees shake. Energy ripples through my fingers. Ali steps back in fear. Oh no….what am I doing? I can’t let this anger control me! Not after what’s happening to V….

At the thought of her, I suddenly remember why Ali is here. I turn my head in time to find V coming back to life. She lifts her head away from her father’s shoulder, coughing up the dark substance that overtook her. She rolls away from his hold, landing on her hands and knees in the snow. She continues her coughing fit until she is no longer producing such ugly symptoms. Jughead mutters praise in relief. Mister Lodge leaps down from the table and joins his daughter on the ground. He places a hand on her upper back, taking deep breaths. “Veronica?”

V sits back on her knees, her back straightened. Her face goes neutral, in a way I don’t think I’ve seen since the night we went after Chuck. With a dead voice, she spits out, “I’m fine, Daddy.” She inches one side of her shoulders forward so she no longer has him touching her. V sees me not that far away, so the neutral face shifts into one showing some emotion.

“How do you feel, V?” I ask her. She takes her eyes off of me, nervously rubbing her knee caps.

“Alright, I guess.” V decides to stand back up. She doesn’t use the table or her father to get up. I mean, I applaud her for having some strength back, but the motion is still…. Something is off about V. I know she just came out of a seizure, but now her demeanor seems more on edge. More cold.

Mister Lodge gets up a little bit after his daughter, and he goes to reach out for her again. Only he stops when he sees….well, when he doesn’t see her pearl necklace. He places one hand on her shoulder, then the other. His hands then go to her face. He lets go, growing more panicked. “ _Mi….mija_.” he stutters, “Where are your pearls?”

V’s eyes widen in irritation. “Really?” she chastises her father, stepping back from him. “I _just_ had a seizure, and you’re more worried about where my pearls are?”

Mister Lodge sends his hands up his face, his fingers pressed against his nose. He lets his hands fall, leaving them hovering in the air like stiff boards. “You are supposed to have them on when you go to school.” He then sends an accusatory finger pointing at her, then back at himself. “WE made that arrangement. You know why you have to put them on---”

“Well, I left them at home, Daddy!” she fires back at him. “How else am I going to be able to control this damn thing if you don’t trust me to work with it on my own? Pearls or not!” She’s about to keep going when she realizes that the Lodges have an audience. Her demeanor lessens when she sees me. It comes back slightly when she sees Jughead. I start to notice the little black veins reappearing on the side of her face at her most tense. The veins spread closer to her mouth. So she wasn’t fully cured.

She glares at me and Jughead, then back over at her father. Her eyes roll, the veins on the side of her face flaring. “You know what? I don’t have time for this. I want to go home.” V begins to storm away, passing by her father. But Mister Lodge takes hold of her arm, stopping her.

He tells her in Spanish, “ _Mija, nosotros no hemos terminado con esta conversación_.” Her frustration grows worse the longer he keeps her at bay. He switches back to using English, “Please. Just talk to me, Veronica.”

“Daddy---”

“I am doing everything I can to keep you safe.” He lets go of her arm and steps in closer towards her. “I don’t want you to go through what happened back to you in New York. Not again.” The last part infuriates her.

She begins to back away, curling her hands into tight fists. “DON’T….”

“Veronica, will you listen to me?” Mister Lodge starts to raise his voice. “How can I protect you from people like them if you won’t take the precautions to look out for yourself?” People like them? Is he referring to the St. Clairs? The Vixens? Hang on….V got attacked by the boy, Nick. But it was a similar situation to her incident with Chuck. That’s all it was….right? Unless V lost her memory. Unless Mister Lodge saw it as something else all together….

The question never leaves my mouth. I can’t say anything while I watch V’s father berate her. “Do you realize the risks you are taking by leaving your pearls at home? And if you get hurt….” He continues to rant on for a while. All in the meantime, V’s body begins to rattle. Her hands fly up to the sides of her face. The veins spread all throughout. Her eyes squeeze shut. Guilt and hopeless paint hers emotion. They are soon replaced by ferment. And madness.

It comes out all at once. Her hands are flung down to her sides. Her eyes snap open, revealing the dark color that has reclaimed the area. All she sees in this moment is red.

She screams, “ ** _STOP YELLING AT ME!_** ”

The world goes sideways. The power of her voice forces the snow to fall out from the trees. The bench where Mister Lodge and I revived her gets blown to the side, near the forest. Jughead, Ali, and I stumble backwards. Jughead and I are lucky to not end up on the ground. Ali can at least steady herself near the steps leading back up to the school. And Mister Lodge….

Whatever exploded out of her has sent him to the ground, many feet from where we stand. His head collides with the ground with a violent sound. A black spot forms on his chest, and it begins to spread. Just the way the veins on V’s face did.

When V does calm down, when she witnesses what she has done…. It makes her distressed. Worried about the state of her father. “DADDY!”

She bolts over to him, crying with each foot step. Jughead has to yank me back so I don’t wind up in her path. We watch as V crouches down over him, shaking his shoulders for any sign of life. But nothing. Oh no….did she kill him? No, I can still sense his aura. But it’s weak.

V struggles to rise back up to her feet. Her sobs echo into the trees. She looks over at the three of us. Extreme remorse is the only way I can describe what emotion she shows. She just injured someone she loves. The one person in her life who cared for her after her mother’s passing. Dark colored tears run down her cheeks.

I go to walk towards her, to ask if she is okay. If she needs help. But she stumbles away from her father. From us. “Please…..just stay away from me.” With that, she makes a run for where the car sits on the side of the road. She goes past it, make a sharp turn, and disappears.

“V! WAIT!” I go to race after her, to get her back.

Ali stops me. “Sabrina!” I turn on my heels, growing just as frustrated as V was moments ago. She takes my hands into her own. “We need to stick together, honey.” Sticking together? What is that supposed to mean? I’m starting to lose my patience, but I still stay to listen to Ali. “We’ll find her. We’ll get her back to her father. But….Sabrina, please---”

**_THEY’RE ALL LYING TO YOU_ **

“LET ME GO, ALI.” I yell, yanking my hands from her grip. Her mouth hangs at my sudden outburst. Jughead doesn’t know what to make of it all either. From the other end of our argument, Mister Lodges lets out a painful groan. But I don’t have time to get Mister Lodge help. My priorities are on finding V.

My rage comes out when I say, “I AM NOT A CHILD ANYMORE. YOU SHOULDN’T DICTATE WHERE I CAN AND CANNOT GO. I EXPECT THAT KIND OF BEHAVIOR FROM MY AUNTS. NOT YOU.” My tongue goes dry and curls up. I realize how quickly the recent set of words came out too late. Ali stumbles backward. She’s silently crying. What have I done? Why did I lash out at her?

I begin to step backwards towards V’s path. I feel nothing but guilt, on top of fear. “Ali, I’m sorry. I know you want to keep me safe. But….” I struggle to get my last part out, “I need you to be honest with me. We need to be more honest with each other. I don’t want any more lies.” I take more steps away from her, the separation between us now becoming more apparent. The unspoken truths, from her end and from mine, waiting to be revealed.

“Sabrina….” her voice waivers. She steps out to me, but I’m too far gone.

“I have to go, Ali. I need to help my friend.” I get back on my course, picking up pace as I leave the school, Jughead, and the one person I thought would understand me the most….the one person who I believed would never lie to me….behind.

**XXXXXXXX**

**_End of Chapter_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot thickens.....
> 
> What's going on with Veronica? Will Sabrina and Alice ever come to find there piece with one another? Will Hiram live???
> 
> All to be revealed next chapter :P


	7. Violent Ends

**ALICE**

Guilt. That’s the one emotion overpowering my state. Extreme guilt. And petrification.

I’ve lost Sabrina. I let her fall down the rabbit hole, digging up the case on Hal. I kept the truth from her. All I have done is lie to her. And now, she’s running away from it, to go find Veronica. She’s running away from me. And no matter how many times I scream her name, I can’t help but watch her disappear behind the line of the trees.

I choke out sobs. The cold stings. My injuries sting more. I never should have let her come here. I should have fought for Hilda and Zelda to let her stay with me at my apartment. I never should have let her wander off with the Jones’s boy to the Sisters. But Joaquin….and Toni…..and Hiram….

Hiram….

A groan emerges from him as I turn my head. I stare, watching him slowly come back to life from….whatever Veronica did to him. What kind of magic was that? Why did she lash out so harshly at him? He said something about not wanting her to repeat her mistakes from New York. About people like them. What did he mean? I wound ponder more on it, but Hiram is…. A black blotch appears on the middle of his chest. It continues to grow larger. He’s in pain.

No. He could be dying.

“HIRAM!” I sprint over to him and kneel down. I cradle his head and lower it down onto my lap. He release another groan, coughing up….oh, it’s awful. It’s identical to what I cough up, only much darker in color. What did Veronica do?

“Mi….mij….” he struggles to speak, he’s wheezing practically. I shush him so he won’t strain himself. He looks up at me with weak eyes. He takes time to glance around the school yard for any sign of his daughter. Then, he sees the footprints in the snow.

“Where…..where’s my daughter?”

“We’ll find her, Hiram.” I tell him, trying not to choke up further. I stroke back some of the hair on his head. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll get her back.” What I say is not enough to calm him down. He notices Jughead standing off to the side, looking all perplexed and confused. I almost forgot he was there. I’ll admit, I am quite infuriated that he had the gaul to bring Sabrina with him to a nursery home, that eventually became a new graveyard. I’m pissed beyond relief. But I can’t fully blame the boy, and I can’t blame Sabrina either. We as the adults locked our mouths shut and threw away the only keys that could potentially end Hal’s reign on Riverdale.

I’m so distracted glaring over at Jughead that I don’t feel Hiram lift himself off of me. He sits upright and begins to crawl on his hands and knees. “Veronica….” he grumbles as he goes to get back up onto his feet. He makes it one step, then another.

Then he’s back down to the ground, coughing up more of what Veronica magically forced into his system.

I’m back by his side, propelling him up without getting the substance on me. I throw one of his arms over my shoulders, the way he and FP did when I fell apart at the pep rally, and I turn to the boy. “JUGHEAD, HELP ME!” The eldest Jones child hesitates at first, but he eventually comes to my aid. He grabs on to the other side of Hiram, and he follows me as I lead up back to the car. We’re all stumbling step by step. To my side, kids are running out of the school, screaming for help, yelling at one another, talking about posting some fight onto social media. I thought Veronica’s issue was the only problem at the school. What could these kids possibly be referring to?

When we finally reach our car, I ask Jughead to get the passenger side door open and to lower the seat back for Hiram. I wait as Jughead follows my command, and we get him into the car together. I make sure to grab the car keys out of Hiram’s coat pocket so I can drive us out of here.

Jughead asks me, “Will anyone at the hospital be able to cure him of that?” Behind me, Hiram continues to cough violently. The longer I watch, the more I realize Jughead has a valid concern. Will the hospital be able to cure Hiram? Or does it require a strong level of magic, like Blue, to get Veronica’s plague out of his system? I’m afraid we might have to result to the latter.

I tell Jughead so, which he seems to take better than I assumed. He shoves the beanie on his head father back, messing up his hair. He huffs, “What else can I do to help? Is there anything I can do?”

My mind runs back to the anger I experienced. The shame I felt. Me not telling Sabrina about Hal. Her not telling me about Rose Blossom and this article of hers and Jughead’s. And if hell just broke loose in that school, how can the two stay safe from the madness if they go forward and publish the article?

I step towards Jughead, about to place my hands on his shoulders but I stop myself. My hands rest at my sides, tight fists forming. My nails kiss my palms, pushing into the flesh. I have to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth to calm myself down. To keep myself from not breaking down over everything.

“Just….for the sake of your family, and for Sabrina….” I say, with a broken voice, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t.” he chokes out. He shoves his hands into his pockets as he is about to walk away. I watch him, only until a new thought hits me. What if Sabrina brings Veronica to the trailer park? What if Joaquin needs help, and FP and Gladys, and even Toni, can’t do anything beyond what they’ve already provided? Jughead will have to be my eyes and ears.

“WAIT!” I call out to him, causing him to turn around and face me again. “If Sabrina comes back, and if Veronica….if she’s---”

“I’ll have my parents reach out.” He answers. I sigh in relief, but tears still form in my eye sockets. He gives me a little smile out of sympathy, then he walks away.

The violent coughing increases from within the car. I need to get my ass in gear. I need to get Hiram help. I make a beeline for the driver’s side and jump in. I use some magic to shut Hiram’s door before I can get the car started. He’s sweating profusely. He looks up at me with wounded eyes. I smooth down his hair. “Stay with me. We’ll get you out of here.” I throw the car into gear and go.

The scenery of this town zooms past me as I slam down on the gas. Downtown isn’t too far from here, which is a relief. But with the rate of this dark spot growing on his chest….I can’t guarantee how much time we have before it gets worse. Or before it kills him.

Hiram coughs. He mutters something to me, but it’s so low, I can’t hear him. I ask for him to repeat what he just said. “Get me….get me to Pembrooke.” he wheezes. “I…I have medicine in my bag. I had it custom made….just in case I ever needed it again.”

Needed it again? Hang on….did I just hear him correctly? The dark spot Veronica gave him is not a new happenstance? I glare down at him when I get to a red light. “THIS HAPPENED TO YOU BEFORE?”

He rolls his eyes up at me. “I’ll explain when we get to Pembrooke. I….” He cannot get the rest of his sentence out. He coughs up more awful looking dark liquid. And I thought my condition was ugly.

The light goes green. My anxiety picks up to a new level. “I’m going as fast as I can! Hang on!” I shove my foot onto the gas pedal, speeding across the way. A car to the side of us has to stop due to my speed. It honks at me, making me yelp. But I keep going, despite the angry wave of traffic behind us. Pembrooke appears just a few blocks away. I pull over to the side of the curb and throw the car into park. I know I should do the right thing and put it in the parking garage nearby, but Hiram’s life is literally at stake, and I need to get him that medicine. The whole thing still weirds me out – when did Veronica first attack him in this fashion? Who was he referring to when he said _people like them_? WHAT KIND OF WITCHCRAFT DOES VERONICA HAVE?

I get out of the car and run like lightning to get Hiram out from the other side. His feet collide down to the pavement when I get him upright, and he lets out a painful yelp. I guide him up the steps of Pembrooke, baby step by baby step. Should I get someone from the front desk, like Andre, to help me? Or is it better to leave them out of this mess? And if they ask questions, will that require me to…. Will I….

I haven’t used the memory removal spell since I left. I try to avoid muttering the spell at all possible. It brings back too many horrid memories. It reminds me of why I had to leave Riverdale. It brings me back to him. And if I have to use the spell today, all it will do is please him. He’ll know I have failed Sabrina, that I failed Toni and Joaquin, and the Joneses, and Hiram, and---

I shove a set of doors open, shoving the last of my thought out of my brain. No, I have to get Hiram back into good health. I have to bring Veronica back home to him safe and sound. Joaquin and Toni will need my assistance later. There’s too many obligations in the present to stay worrying about what I messed up in the past. An older gentleman behind the front desk looks up at us just as we continue our little two step dance down the corridor. I’ve seen him around the few times I’ve been to Pembrooke. Hiram made an effort to introduce a handful of his staff at Pembrooke to me, if for whatever reason I was here and needed anything. Right now, I will need something from that older man if I can’t get Hiram up to his place.

The older man comes around from behind the desk, studying Hiram’s weakening appearance. “Mister Lodge? Are you alright? Should I call an ambulance---”

“We don’t have time!” I cut the man off, struggling to keep Hiram up right. The weight of his arm around my shoulder weighs me down to the point where I’m walking with my legs bent. His breathing gets heavy. The spreading blotch on his chest worsens. I know it’d be better to keep the man, I think Hiram said his name is Smithers, out of harm’s way. I might have to brace myself and do the damn spell. But Smithers has been nothing but kind to me and Sabrina. He cares about the Lodge Family. He wouldn’t be the type to paint the Lodges out as villains, or to spread rumors on any weird behaviors they may exhibit. The worse Hiram gets, the more I need this man to provide his services. Spell or not.

I look at Smithers and ask, “Can you at least help me get him to the elevator?” I could explain more, but that would only jeopardize things even more. Luckily, Smithers asks no follow up questions. He moves around and throws more of Hiram’s weight onto himself, equaling it out between us.

We’re able to make it to the elevators in a timely manner. I prepare Hiram’s keys in my free hand to grab out the right key when ready while Smithers prepares the elevator for us. He holds the doors open and presses the button to the correct floor while I walk Hiram into the elevator. I rest Hiram against the wall, telling him to hang on, that we’re almost there. His feet give out. He slides down to the floor at an alarming rate. I panic and crouch down to keep his lower body from completely slamming to the ground. I cup his face in my hands. “Stay with me.” I mutter to him before I return my gaze to Smithers. “I think I can take it over from here.”

Smithers glares down at the floor, his expression neutral. Has he witnessed this between Hiram and Veronica before? He looks back at me, I see the sadness forming in his furrowed eyes. “It’s a good thing you’re around, Miss Smith.” He removes his hand from the door, and he returns to his station at the front desk.

I stare at the wall for sometime when the elevator doors chime shut. I didn’t think my presence around Pembrooke was that good of a thing. I only thought spending more time with Hiram was more something beneficial for my end of things. Everyone else seems to see the reverse of it. The Joneses. Tom Keller. Toni. Smithers.

Maybe Hiram is changing how he presents himself around Riverdale because of me. But he has no clue what he’s done for me as well. And if I lose him now….all that progress I made disappears. I need him just as much as he needs me.

The numbers go up slowly on the button chart. I return my attention to Hiram, using the sleeve of my dress to wipe away forming sweat on the side of his face. I notice his fingers clawing at the collar of his button down. Is he trying to rip it off? He coughs up more of that horrible liquid, now taking on a more regular color. Like blood.

Hiram digs his nails into his shirt, right over the dark blotch. I pry his fingers away, holding onto them tight. “We’re just a few floors away. We’re almost there.” I reassure him. The blotch bulbs out at me. I have to wonder if any kind of spell will stop the spread. Or if any will prevent it from killing him longer he goes without getting this medicine.

He tries to swallow, it’s bringing him pain. Tears form in his eyes. His head bobs back to the elevator wall. “The….the pearls….” he chokes out. My mouth slightly opens. What reason does he have to bring up pearls? It wouldn’t make sense to bring them up, unless he was thinking about Veronica….

Veronica. Before his infection, he chastised her over something. What needed to control her….

“There’s a reason I ask her to wear those pearls.” he coughs. I watch a tear trickle down his cheek. His voice breaks when he speaks to me. “This first happened to me when she was 6. Her witchcraft kicked in, she had these horrible outbursts. Plenty of which left me…..” he coughs up more blood, “left me like this. I needed to help her. To protect her.”

“So you gave her the pearls.”

He nods, nibbling on his lip with a frown. “They were custom-made by an acquaintance of mine in the Church. I figured….if I could implant a calming spell, like Blue, and if she wore them….it could make her better.” Another nasty cough. More blood and other substances. The numbers climb up slower. He sobs, “But I think I ruined her. I kept her so trapped….I never let her learn how to control it on her own. I failed her. I failed my daughter.”

My heart crumbles to pieces hearing him talk this way. I already blame myself for so much that’s happened in my life. But I haven’t raised a child on my own. I haven’t fully dealt with the wrath of the Church. Or lost a partner. And, and, and….. It’s tragic. I’m hoping Hiram won’t die from this, he survived Veronica’s outbursts before. But I don’t want him to believe he’ll die thinking he failed his daughter, and his wife, and everyone else. Or me for that matter.

I cup his face into my hands. I wipe away those tears. “Listen to me. You did not fail Veronica. You didn’t, Hiram.” By now, I’m crying too, but not as heavily as him. The elevator chimes. We’re on his floor. As the doors open, I tenderly throw his arm around my shoulder once more. “Can you stand?” His head hangs, his eyes droop. He looks back up at me and nods. It takes us a bit to get him back up to his feet. The elevator threatens to close, I use magic to force it back open as we head out.

We stumble down the hallway. The blood keeps coming up at a rapid rate. He tries to catch it in his hands, some dribbles onto the floor. It’s difficult to help him walk upright, he’s slouching badly now. The door is just at the end of the hallway. I’m really hoping Edgar is inside, or at least in Hiram’s office. Maybe he could grab the medicine while I get Hiram somewhere comfortable. Somewhere that won’t elevate the pain.

I don’t have time to fiddle with the keys, so I just use magic to unlock the front door. I rotate us so Hiram is able to get through the doorway first. He leans up against the door, lifting some of his weight off of me. He braces his arm on the door. He mutters something, I can’t tell what. I go to ask him again, but what happens flashes right before my eyes.

Hiram collapses to the floor of the entry way, leaving a bloody handprint on the door.

“NO!” I have to get down on my knees, grab his upper body, and bring him up to face me. The sweat production is worsening. His eyes are becoming bloodshot. The blotch is growing. “Alice….” he mumbles, “Just leave me. I trust Edgar to look after me.” At the mentioning of his familiar’s name, Edgar flies out of Hiram’s office. He caws at us, then looks down at his owner. He hurries over to us, morphing into a larger shape. I keep my grip on Hiram, not ready to let him go.

“Come on.” I mutter, assisting Edgar in getting Hiram out of the entry way. Edgar shapeshifts so he can get his body mass under Hiram’s legs. I edge my arms under his armpits, hoisting the weight of his torso against my legs. With Edgar’s help, we walk him over to the living room couch. When we reach the edge of the couch, I release my arms and position myself close by to Edgar. Together, we get Hiram up onto the cushioned area, propping him against the pillows. Hiram coughs again before he instructs Edgar in Spanish to go back into his office. From what I can make out, he’s asking Edgar to get the medicine ready. Wait. He’s going to do this on his own? With only his familiar hanging around for extra precautions?

I look down to find Hiram frantically undoing the buttons of his shirt. The blotch looks more horrifying against his skin without the shirt to cover it. “Alice….you can go.” he winces. “It’s okay.”

“What? Hiram, no! I’m not leaving you! Not when you’re like this!” I throw back at him, gesturing down to the injured area. From far away, Edgar caws, making a ruckus in the office.

Hiram looks up at me with wounded eyes. “You shouldn’t have to see me like this. It’s better if you leave now. I think the Joneses need you more….” He stops his sentence, coughing up more blood. The blotch starts to form veins. Exactly like the ones Veronica had on her face before she lashed out at her father. How can he tell me to go and trust he’ll be alright if he’s going through this? What purpose would it serve for him to toss me back to the Southside, to where I’ll only be further reminded of my screw-ups? Where I’ll have it right in front of my face that I’m alone?

FP has Gladys. They have their kids. Toni and Joaquin have one another. Sabrina….she’s on her own, but she still has family and friends. And me?

Sabrina was right. I spent too much of my life running away. I turned people away, and if I dared to think I could get attached, people would move on. They’d act like I never existed, or they treat me like a pariah. Just like the Spellman Sisters. Just like everyone in high school.

No. Not again. I can’t keep letting people get hurt because I left them behind. I can’t let Veronica lose her only family.

I now understand why FP snapped at me the night of the pep rally. He was frightened of losing me. The way I am now for Hiram.

So, I say, with my eyes misting, “WELL, I NEED YOU.” The power of my voice stuns us both to silence. It echoes across the room, bouncing off the walls. Hiram’s lip wobbles. I cup his face, finally allowing myself to break. “Just let me stay.” I plead, feeling his heartbeat pulse from his neck into my arm. “Let me help you.” I rest my forehead against his, our breathing becoming more in sync. I want to say more, to tell him what’s really going through my brain. But my weeping overpowers my ability to speak. I let the thoughts stay inward. _Don’t leave me like the rest of them. Don’t leave me to walk this world alone._

Edgar comes out of the office. He drops something onto the coffee table in front of us. I don’t see what he found until he uses his beak to tap on my shoulder. There, I find a good-sized syringe next to a small container of hazy blue liquid. I look back over at Hiram, his exposed chest. Oh….I get it now. He needs the injection to go straight into the blotch, and that can’t happen if the blotch remains hidden.

I turn back to Edgar, reaching for the syringe and the medicine. “ _Gracias._ ” I tell him, and I get to work. I plunge the syringe into the bottle, sucking up as much of this medicine as the syringe can hold. I haven’t dealt with any kind of shots since grade school. I know I needed vaccines so I can attend school, much of which I had to use my father’s drug money to pay for. As I got older, I stopped resorting to that practice, since it was mostly for mortals. My witch-side has at least spared me from dealing with the severities of human diseases. But in terms of unusual cases, like what Hiram is going through, like what I continue to go through thanks to Hal…. That requires more intense witchcraft to cure.

The syringe hits its capacity. Following in suit of most medical dramas on TV, I plink at the syringe with my first two fingers once I set the container down. I turn my attention back to Hiram. “This might hurt, so….I’m sorry if I get in too hard.” I hear him try to mumble, I guess giving me last minute advice on how to use the syringe. I would appreciate it, but time is not on our side, and I would rather have a cured Hiram Lodge to help me find our girls later on.

I jab the needle straight into the blotch. His eyes bulge, he inhales sharply. I push down on the syringe, the blue liquid disappearing into the pound of his flesh. Hiram clings to me for dear life. He welps into my shoulder as I finish injecting this medicine into his wound. Once it’s empty, I toss the syringe back onto the coffee table. I embrace him fully, gently stroking his back. “Shh….it’s okay. It’s over.” I do my best to comfort him. I keep it up a few times, just until his grip on me softens. It softens to the point where he’s no longer reaching for me. To the point where he’s completely limp in my arms. The way I was the night I saw my name in the Book.

“HIRAM? HIRAM!” I lean him back against the couch. His eyes are drooping shut. The dark blotch swirls with the color of the medicine, battling for dominance. Oh no. Was that why he tried to advise me before injecting him? AM I KILLING HIM?

He gasps, making me jump in my seat. He blinks at me. “It’ll take a few minutes to kick in.” he breathes. “Just gotta…..just have to wait it out.” He loses his ability to speak. He rests his head against a pillow, breathing heavy. The war inside his flesh continues to play out in a most violent fashion. My brain races. What if it doesn’t kick in? What would be the other alternative? Come on, Alice. THINK!

One option lingers in the back of my head, coming into the forefront. One option that saved me that night, and the night of the pep rally. What has brought me comfort when my tattoo was destroyed. Wait, the spell is meant for him to do. Could it work if I did it? I don’t know….but it might be the only choice I have.

My hand goes to the infected area. I spread my fingers wide, feeling his heart struggling to keep a consistent beat. I close my eyes, concentrating on the area in my head. I need a song, just something musical that will expedite this whole process. The only song that comes to me is the one that played when Hiram and I laid on the floor. I let the Bee Gees pound in my head, my eardrums, as I start to speak.

It’s not as elegant or as calming when he usually speaks Blue. My voice is butchered and cracking from all my recent upset. But I keep my hindsight on the area, projecting the music and the meaning of these words towards it. I stumble on the pronunciation, but I get right back on track. I can’t tell if it’s working with my eyes closed. But the longer I keep up with the first round of my chanting, I feel his heartbeat start to level out. The movement of the blotch in combination with the medicine decreases. The Bee Gees sing louder in my head.

I open my eyes, staring down at him. The blotch is nowhere near gone, but its grueling domination of his chest has mitigated. Hiram glares down at the area, at my hand on his chest. He brings his gaze back up to me. Lone tears stream down his cheeks.

“ _¿Memorizaste mi hechizo?_ ” _You memorized my spell?_

I laugh in between choking back tears. “How else do you think I’ve been trying to heal my thigh?” A grin forms. He chuckles low, just enough that it won’t upset the infected area. Yet, with the downtime between me performing Blue and our current moment, its power begins to die down. Oh, this is not good.

I get going again, attempting to keep the same pace I used originally. My nervousness causes me to fumble on words. My distraction keeps me from amplifying the song I used. A new voice comes into the scene. At first, I think it’s a new song, one I didn’t anticipate on using. But as I listen to it, I realize it’s not a new song. It’s Hiram saying Blue with me. He whispers the words to guide me, he uses his finger to tap on my wrist. To keep a steady rhythm for us. A stronger haze of blue enters both my mind space and his, the music flows easily.

My eyes flutter open. The last of the medicine absorbs the substance that overtook his chest, leaving only a red spot from where it sat. Hiram stops coughing. His heartbeat mellows out. His state of being softens.

“Perhaps it was a good thing you stayed.” he whispers. I can tell he’s coming back to normal. His mischievous, flirty behavior has resurfaced. My forehead remains glued to his. I feel the trace of his fingers against my jawline.

I smirk. “Easy there, Manhattan. You’re not at full capacity just yet.” He gives me a look of _What did you call me?_ before he bursts into a giggling fit. It causes me to giggle too. I’m just relieved that he didn’t die on me. I’m relieved that he bounced back as strongly as he did. I can only hope now, for his sake and frankly for my own, that the girls came come back too.

I have to push away any negative thoughts of Sabrina and Veronica. It will only work me up to the point of fear and upset. It’ll slow down my chances of aiding Hiram in his recovering. And I will need just as much energy for when I get back to the trailer park to help the Joneses and Toni with Joaquin.

I examine Hiram head to toe. He’ll need a bath, or a shower. Whatever will bring him the most comfort and get him cleaned up the fastest. And what will give me enough time to recuperate from the insanity I just witnessed.

So, I set the thought into motion. “Why don’t we get you cleaned up?”

XXXXXXXX

The bed feels firmer from the last time I sat on it. I’m half running my fingers along the comforter, half glaring down at this….

I was able to get Hiram into the bathroom and take a wet cloth to his face. Now that he has some energy to take care of himself without me, he decided to jump into the shower. I asked if he wanted me to bring him a spare change of clothes, he told me he could hold off and grab it himself when he got out. “In the meantime, if you wish,” he pointed out towards the bedroom as he began to run the water, “I have reading materials in my side table drawer. It could help to explain….” His voice dropped there. I didn’t really pick up on what he meant at first. Help to explain what? More of his family’s history? More about Veronica?

The pearls. People like them.

I left him to shower up and wandered out into the bedroom, leading me to search his drawers. A manila folder sat on top of some loose leaf papers, old baby teeth that belonged to Veronica, more of that medicine.

Now, I’m sitting on his bed pouring through this folder, with the sound of the running water filling in the blank spaces of my silence. Reading through what Hiram has gathered over the years makes our current research look like a fourth grader’s first book report. But considering that Veronica has behaved this way before, and the reasons why Hiram and his daughter reside in Riverdale…. Toni was right. Sabrina and I are lucky to go through our current situation. It pales in comparison to what Hiram had done over the years to protect Veronica.

She’s had this condition since childhood, most likely after Hermione’s passing. He confronted multiple sources within the Witches Council and with the Church of Night to figure out how to handle Veronica. But none had ever seen witchcraft that dark. That violent. The pearls he gifted her aren’t a cure, but a treatment like he described. He’s scribbled notes on the margins of these pages, tracking the success or failure of the pearls, her interactions with other witches, her want to attend mortal school.

_I fear she may not be ready_ , he writes in one area. _If she has another lash out, if anyone learns of what she has, it could jeopardize her life. I understand her need for social interaction. I held those feelings once at her age. Am I going to fast? Will letting her attend a mortal school reverse all the progress we made?_

Eventually, he did deem her ready for an education amongst other mortals, like he once had when he met me. He keeps referring to some daily journal that tracked her symptoms, but when looking back at his drawer, I can’t find anything that looks like his little science experiment on his daughter. For the most part, the amount of research decreases the older she gets, the less he can fear for her safety.

That is until there’s paperwork about this family. The St. Clairs.

The last of what resides in the manila folder is all about the St. Clair family and their background. Hundreds of articles. Financial records. Text messages and social media posts from the teenage boy, Nick. What reason did Hiram have to cyber stalk this family? Unless they did something to Veronica….

My eyes go to a document with the family’s seal. The paper used to print the letter is hard and egg shell colored. I read the words on the page, looking for any clue that could explain its presence amongst the research. But there are no specific clues. The answers all displayed right there in black and white.

It’s a letter of approval for Nick St. Clair to seal his pledge in the family’s name to this society, once he has completed his task of killing a Miss Veronica Cecilia Lodge.

My heart plummets to my stomach. My hand flies to my mouth. I heard countless rumors from patrons at the diner of why Hiram and Veronica came to Riverdale. Many including that he was a mobster that had to go on witness protection. That he killed a family and needed to lie low with his daughter. I would have first bought into that if Hiram never revealed himself as a witch to me. I would have believed he used magic to harm others for his own advances. Now I have pieces of the truth in front of me.

The St. Clairs were hunters. Hiram brought Veronica to his hometown to keep her away from the St. Clairs and their society.

“It still puzzles me to this day how they would have known of her condition.” Hiram’s voice spooks me. I whip my head around to find him emerging out of the bathroom in a white robe. His arms fold over his stomach watching me read through his discoveries. He meanders more into the bedroom. “I would guess their primary gatherings on Veronica came from their boy, Nicholas. He spent more time with her. He would have fed information back to his parents.”

He wanders over to his dresser and begin to pull out clothes. I turn my head away, just to give him some privacy as he changes. I look back down at the pile of papers on the St. Clairs. I look down at the date of this document in front of me. From what I keep hearing, Hiram and Veronica came to Riverdale at some point before the school year picked up. If the school year started after Labor Day, the Lodges must have arrived at some point before the end of August. This letter is dated from May, at least 3 months before then.

“What did they do to her, Hiram?” my voice croaks. I hear him huff from the other side of the room. He shoves a drawer shut.

“They invited her to their home one night for dinner. When she came back, all….” He pauses, not sure of how to describe the events to me. I feel the bed sink a little when Hiram joins my side. I look over to find him in a dark shirt and a pair of Riverdale Wrestling Team sweatpants. His fingers hover over the document. “I spent most of that night analyzing the events in her head. She believed the boy sexually assaulted her in some way. That’s what I had wanted to believe when she returned home. But, the more I looked into her memories….”

“You think they drugged her? So she would reveal her powers to them?”

Hiram runs his hand down his chin, taking a long shaky breath. “They placed a sedative in her drink. It blurred any sense that told her something was not right. She must have begun to panic, because she couldn’t hide anything from them. Only she wasn’t aware of it.

“The St. Clairs decided it was time for Nicholas to make his attack. So, he went to corner her, to follow the methods his family spent his lifetime teaching him. But it made her more afraid. It made her more violent, and wild. She got away from that family without a scratch on her, but that didn’t mean….it couldn’t guarantee….” He has to pause again, he’s getting worked up over the subject. He doesn’t like seeing Veronica get hurt. He really does care for her.

He gulps down saliva before continuing, “I knew I had to act. To take her someplace where no one else like the St. Clairs could put her in harm’s way. I had to spent weeks, months even, preparing my case for the Church, to convince them to allow me to bring Veronica here. That’s why I have the articles, and the financial records.” He gestures down to the other set of documents next to me. “When I learned in the activities the St. Clairs took active part in, I was….beyond livid. In a way, they reminded me of the Blossoms, except I learned much quicker by then of their hunts against people like us. I just wish I had known sooner. I would have faced the St. Clairs by my own means, to beg for my daughter’s life. All the work I had done to raise her…..” He stops suddenly, squeezing his eyes shut. He furrows his face and slams a fist into the mattress. He looks so defeated, it’s heart wrenching. And I really can’t do much about it, other than giving him moral support.

I reach for his hand, encasing it between both of mine. I feel his fingers squeeze my inner hand. His face loosens up a bit, then he looks over at me. He fights back tears as he lets out another huff.

I hate wanting to ask more questions, he’s probably tired of dragging himself into bad memories. But, if the Lodges are here in Riverdale under the watchful eye of the Church….. “Are they still after her? Do they know you’re here?”

He stays quiet for a little while. The fist on the side eases up, his hand relaxing. His lips form a neutral line. He brings his gaze up to me. “I’m afraid,” he sighs, “the Church saw to it that the St. Clairs would never interfere in our lives again. But for a price.” A price? What could that mean? Before I can even ask, Hiram explains, “They would handle the family and allow me to take Veronica to Riverdale….as long as I joined the Council to represent the witch community in town, and if I acted on their behalf for certain tasks. Kind of like what I’m doing right now for the Spellmans.” He goes quiet again, nibbling on his bottom lip. So the Church gave the Lodges sanctuary, but that still doesn’t answer my question on….

“The St. Clairs, on the other hand….they would not receive such a promising ending. Not for what they did to us. So….the Church made sure their legacy would never impact another member. The week before Labor Day, when I took Veronica out for lunch at this restaurant, the Dakota, when one of my staff arrived to our table, with news from the Church.” I watch him go still. He rests his free arm over his legs, pointing a finger towards the folder. I look back down at it. What more does he want me to see? Behind one of the St. Clairs’ records, a newspaper article rests at the end of the folder. I lift it up, being careful to not rip any of the paper. A picture of a car wreck sits on the front page. All sides of the vehicle are smashed. Paramedics survey the scene.

Finally, I read the headline out loud. “New York Family in Violent Road Collision. Parents Die While Son Is Left in Coma.”

My heart pounds faster, making my chest rise and fall. I have to set the article down, I don’t want to keep looking at the photo, or the headline. The Church killed the St. Clairs. I know they must have deserved it for what happened to Veronica….but to react in a way that could point fingers at any of them, I’m stunned. The only similar instance I can think of is what happened to the Spellmans, Sabrina’s mother and father. But Sabrina’s father was the head of the Council. They had no reason to be a target for anyone. But that’s assuming the Church arranged their deaths….

Now I get why Hiram devotes so much of his current loyalty to the Church. He has to play nice to thank them for handling the St. Clair situation. For allowing him to marry a mortal, for adopting a child, for defying his family’s traditions all his childhood. He’ll never stop having to repay them for their services. He’s indebted to them, and he cannot get out of it unless he is permanently excommunicated, or if he is dead. The thought makes me want to cry. And it does to some extent. My eyes mist up when I look at him. I release one of my hands so I can cradle his head, bringing it down to my shoulder. I end up wrapping both of my arms around him, stroking the hair around his ear with my thumb. He places his hand by my hip, a new gesture which normally would make me panic, but he’s being gentle. He doesn’t press down onto my hip nor does he cause my tattoo injury to flare up. It almost feels like he isn’t touching the area at all. It’s more like a blanket wrapped around me. I’m okay with that.

“I’ll never stop owing my life to them.” he sounds distressed when he speaks again. He tilts his chin up so he can look at me. His eyes grow wet, showing the intensity of his emotion. “I’m trapped, Alice. Everything I do, the Church finds a way to make me more indebted to them. I’m trapped, all because I wanted a life for my own. All because I don’t know how to love her….”

“You _do_ love her. That’s not true.” I lift his chin, keeping my hand there. I wipe away a tear with my thumb. I know I keep telling him that he’s doing a good job with Veronica, that his efforts of raising her as a single parent have not ended in failure. But my words may not be enough to drown out the intrusive thoughts. To stop whatever previous judgement he received from the Council, from the Spellmans. I need to make it loud and clear, the way I did when he shared with me his grieving over Hermione.

“Whoever says you are not doing good enough is wrong, Hiram.” I tell him, choking up myself. “I don’t doubt for one moment that Veronica sees you as a horrible parent. You’ve done so much for her, can’t you see? You are _not_ failing her.” I want to believe what I tell him could apply for myself. That I’m not failing Sabrina, or Jellybean. But lately, all I seem to do is drive Sabrina away. For Jellybean, that’s not the case, but it could be the more she stays in my life. So, out of the two of us in this room, I’m the one that feels like a failure. The bad parental figure. I will never have the experience of raising a child, not the way Hiram and the Joneses have for nearly 17 years. Not the way Hilda and Zelda stepped in to raise Sabrina. All of them look like rock stars taking care of their children, and here I am, letting Sabrina dangle her feet into the ocean so the sharks can eat her whole.

But now cannot be about me bemoaning on about my failures. Now needs to be time to reassure Hiram, to give him the comfort the Church falsely provided him and Veronica. I don’t care how long I have to stay in this room as Hal burns the world around us. I’d rather have Hal take me out seeing me here than allowing Hiram to drive himself into a remorseful state.

I let my hand fall from his face, caressing his neck instead. I bump my forehead to his. My eyes shut. Our breathing comes together. I sniffle, “You have not lost Veronica, Hiram. Blood or not, she is your child. The light of your life. Don’t let anything else pollute that. She loves you so much. You still have one another.”

He releases an exhale, accompanied by a sob. He reaches for my upper arm, stroking my bicep. I can hear him sniffle, I open my eyes to watch him grit his teeth. He squeezes his eyes shut before he asks, “And if I’ve lost her today? If Sabrina loses her, and if she never comes home?”

Despair. Loneliness. I feel it all radiating out of his eyes. Out of his tongue. The true notion of failure, despite all the work for the Church. He’ll forever see himself as alone, for not having done enough to pay his dues. Not anyone. Not with me sitting right here. Hiram promised me fealty. He has given me sanctuary. I have to do the same for him. I must.

I hold him steady, looking straight at him. “Then you still have me.” He blinks at me in confusion, unsure of how to interpret my words. I have to take a deep breath before I finish. “I’m still here, Hiram. You won’t go through this alone, not anymore.” His mouth gapes, he adopts the same look I gave him when he made that vow. My hand creeps back up to cup his cheek. I bring the other hand up to cup the other side. Then, I lean in. I start by kissing one cheek, then the other. I plant little kisses by his eyebrows, on his forehead, on his nose. This level of affection is one I never would have done for anyone in high school, with the exception of Hal on the good days. I’m not really an affectionate person, so this act is foreign for me. But Hiram deserves love. He deserves to have someone dote on him and recognize his good deeds when he won’t see it for himself. He needs that reassurance, the way I do. He needs it more than I do.

I stop my kissing, leaving his lips the only place I haven’t touched with my own. I don’t know what prevents me from doing so, other than I’m scared to give myself away so early on. I haven’t fully recovered from Hal, and I don’t want to ruin my relationship with Hiram by advancing on him this way. So, I decide to just let my thumbs run down his lips in place of what could have occurred. I allow my forehead to connect with his again. By now, he’s weeping, he reaches to touch my face. My heart pounds in an irregular pattern. Sometimes, I hate being this vulnerable around people. But vulnerability has brough Hiram and I together. And vulnerability is keeping us together.

My eyelids begin to droop. My body begins to sag. It’s probably not even 5 o’clock yet, but I’m exhausted. It’s been a long day, and I just want to sack out. I know finding Sabrina and Veronica is a priority, but I need rest. I bet Hiram may need rest too. We can pick up our search for the girls after a good nap.

“Alice….” Hiram croaks. I push some straggling hair out of his eyes. He sniffles while trying to say my name again. “Alice…. I….”

“Shh….” I peel myself away from him, leaning back into the bed. “Try to get some rest. We can talk more later.” I use magic to close the curtains by the bay window, and to turn off the lights in the room. I take Hiram’s hand, silently begging him to lay next to me. Maybe I am going to fast, I don’t know. I’m not having sex with him, or making out with him. It’s just sharing a bed with him for a nap, only I think I want to be cradled into him while we sleep. Teen Alice would gag if she saw us like this now.

I shove Teen Alice out of my head as I wait for Hiram to take my cues. He takes a corner of the comforter and peels it back, exposing the inside of this bed. He climbs in, lifting up more so I can climb in as well. I let my arms rest on top of the sheets, allowing the dark to absorb me. I hear Hiram sniffle next to me. I turn to my side, propping my hand under the side of my head. I run my thumb across the flesh under his eye, removing any tears that may have formed. I inch closer to him, hoping my presence is bringing him some comfort. I remove my hand from my head, extending my arm to land nearby his head. It takes a bit, but soon enough, Hiram reaches out to me, placing his hand on my hip again. I trace the outline of his face with my fingertips. The lines forming at his eyes, around his eyebrows. The mole by the side of his nose. His fingers dance along my jawline, hovering there.

He rests his forehead against my shoulder, fully holding onto me. I return the gesture and rest back against the bed, his bodyweight on me. Past experience would make me freak. Time tells me to slow down, to reconsider what I’m doing. My head wants me to look at my situation from all angles. My heart tells me it’s okay. That I can trust Hiram. And for the first time, in quite a long time, I listen to my heart as it soothes us both to sleep.

XXXXXXXX

It’s later at night when we make it to Pop’s. We both woke up around 8:30, nearly four hours after we came to Pembrooke. We both were hungry, and we needed to get a head start on finding the girls. I figured food could help calm my nerves, and to not think about Hal getting his hands on them.

I think I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ll get fired for missing so much work. I tell this to Hiram on the drive over. He tells me not to panic, that Pop will understand. I had to tend to him, and to Joaquin. I did a favor for Toni. I want to believe him, but with how crazy everything has gotten in town….I don’t want to think of any other alternative.

The diner isn’t packed when we pull into the driveway, just a few teen couples scattered in the booths. Hiram puts the car into park, the ignition stops roaring. I glare into the diner through the windows. Everyone looks so happy. They’re so obliviously at peace, it hurts. I want a sign that she’s okay. That either one of them are okay. I check my phone to see if FP or Gladys, or even Toni, have any updates. The only thing I see is a text from Gladys, responding back to what I sent about five minutes ago. She and FP are going to talk with Jughead tonight about the article, and what to do about Joaquin. She doesn’t know if they’ll need to involve the other Serpents quite yet. She and Toni need to figure out a game plan. I also see a text from Toni, thanking me again for watching over her shop. She says that she’ll let me know if she needs me to cover again, just in case the Joaquin problem brews into tomorrow.

We sit in silence for a while, watching the happy faces bop around inside the diner. Will the faces match the one of the girls? Their hair? Will Pop know if they dropped by earlier? It’s too much to ask of him, considering I have skipped so much work. But Pop knows we care for the girls. He knows of our commitment to them. I just hope tonight it won’t be another let down.

Hiram breaks our silence. “Not to ask a bad question, but….” he clears his throat, “Have you considered….do you know what will come for Sabrina? Would you want to inform her aunts on today’s events?” I lean back against the car seat. I haven’t put much consideration to it. Frankly, I was starting to get used to Hilda and Zelda giving me the silent treatment during my time here. With no word about Sabrina’s trial. No updates on my shop. Not even a word from Ambrose. Maybe the only way I can get the Spellman Sisters to talk is if I….if I decide to….

“It’s not a bad question.” I start by saying, letting him know it’s alright. I sigh, “Worse case, I take her home, back to Greendale. Just to get her away from Hal, and under the protection of her Aunts. Best case….” I pause again, running my fingers through my hair. My tongue goes dry, so does my throat.

Hiram fills it in for me, “She’s more than welcome to reside with me and Veronica in Pembrooke. The girls will have all the care they need.” I feel his fingers slip between my own. I watch his lip curl upward, in a sad way. “I owe it to you after what you did for Veronica.” I don’t really know what to say. I kept Veronica with me and Sabrina only because it wouldn’t be safe for her to go home alone after her time with Chuck Clayton. I had no obligation to do so, and I still did it anyway. Does Hiram feel like he owes me? Personally, he doesn’t. But he is so willing to look after her while I finish off Hal….

Well, until I find another alternative, he will do. I can’t manage to say much, other than, “Thank you.” I smile at him, but it doesn’t last long. My mind just goes straight back to the Spellmans. To what they could say when….if I have to bring her home.

Hiram must be picking up on my worry. He squeezes my hand, “If….if you have to resort to your worse case scenario….when would you consider….” He can’t finish the question. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore than I do. And I don’t blame him, not after what he went through today.

I bring my hand up to the dashboard, tapping on it with my fingertips. I shrug my shoulders. “Maybe by Christmas? Or New Years? Depends on how bad it gets here.” I look out to the window on my side. Branches flow with the wind, staying sturdy in the trees. I wonder where he’s hiding right now. Somewhere out in Pickens Park, or in Fox Forest? Is he watching us? No, he would have to lie low and recover from his attack at the Sisters. He needs time before he’ll kill again. Maybe going back for Joaquin. Maybe to feast on Veronica or Sabrina. Or me for that matter.

I wonder if that stupid cat of Sabrina’s got out of Pembrooke and meandered into the woods somewhere. I didn’t feel its aura when we were just there, and Hiram hasn’t seen it come out of Veronica’s room in a while. Maybe it’s for the better that I did not reunite with the damn thing. The bad vibes it gives off would have prevented us from getting Hiram cured. It would have made me sick again, the way it did the morning of the pep rally.

Now that I think on it, why did Sabrina’s cat make me throw up that day? It hadn’t done anything to me before, it would just growl at me or give me a deadly glare as I passed. No….it did make me nauseous a few times, and it seemed to happen right when I feel Hal.

Something comes into my memory. A small detail that I must have overlooked when I took time to examine that cat. When I held it, when I looked at its face, I had a sense of déjà vu. I picture that little face, its black fur, its strange eyes. Every detail.

Then it hits me. The cat had a scratch on its face, almost identical to the one I gave Hal when he attacked me.

Okay, I’m analyzing way too heavily. It’s just a scratch! The cat probably injured itself while running around in the woods for all I care. Whatever. I just want everything to stay peaceful for the next couple of days. I keep hearing about this Jubilee, Sierra McCoy’s last hurrah as Mayor. I can only be optimistic that Hal won’t enter the Jubilee disguised and unleash his power on everyone there. If he does….then I might have to attend. It’d be better to end him there with Hiram around than rely on my own strengths to kill him when I’ve parted ways with everyone. Again. Maybe for the last time….

“Hopefully I’ll still be in town for the Jubilee at the end of the week.” I tell him. “Could stop my brain from overthinking things for a couple of hours.” I take my hand off the dashboard and pick at my fingernails. Hang nails form on the sides of one finger. I start to peel back at it, making the area bleed a little.

“Maybe it might be good for you to go. For all of us to go.” I turn to him, only to find that his smile is fading. Huh….why now is he acting all skittish on me? Does he think the comment came off as too flirtatious? I didn’t interpret it that way; I happen to agree that maybe it’d be nice to get out. But I don’t get a chance to tell Hiram that. He stumbles on words, “But if you had plans with the Joneses….or if you just wanted to attend the Jubilee with Sabrina….”

“I haven’t made any plans yet.” I confess, temporarily pausing his train of thought. I hold my breath for a moment, then let it out. “I was just….I was planning on playing it by ear. Just in case….” I let my voice die out, not wanting to say the last part out loud. Just in case I have to confront Hal, ending it all between him and me.

Hiram doesn’t fight back, nor does he question my answer. He just bobs his head, and he forms a small grin. “Perfectly fine. Do what you feel comfortable with. But if you did want to arrange anything together….let me know.” He stares down at our hands, running his fingertip along the inner grooves of the space between my fingers. Maybe he was trying to suggest something. Did he want to go with me alone? With the girls? It’s the complete opposite of him inviting me to dinner at Lenny’s for our meeting, and that felt like eons ago. Now, he’s shy, and not as bold. He doesn’t want to intrude on my own affairs. He’s more cautious, rather wanting to ask for my consent than enforcing time together on me. Come to think about it, I don’t think Hal ever ask for consent for things towards the end. He burned my tattoo without clearing it by me. He killed my classmates with approaching me. He acted on his own behalf, assuming I’d be okay with it.

But Hiram is not Hal.

So, I do the thing again and enclose both hands around his, pulling them into my lap. “You know I was going to sit with you anyway, right?” I giggle, trying to lighten the mood. “I’d practically have to drag Gladys and her family with me, but….we’re all going to wind up together eventually.” The last part produces a chuckle on his end. That’s good.

Just for shits and giggles, I add on, “Either that, or they’ll leave us to sit together and….observe from afar. Like we’re on _Animal Planet_ , or something.” I extend my fingers and wiggle them for dramatic affect. Hiram watches me in silence, then he rolls his eyes.

“I take it the Joneses assume we’re together.” My face lights up. I didn’t even have to cue him in on the Jones’s gossip about us, and he got it! Oh, if only he had any clue what else they’ve have said…. But that can wait for another time. For now, I just laugh in unison with him.

Time passes, and my stomach growls. “Okay, Manhattan. I’m hungry, and I need brain power before we look for teenage girls in the middle of the night. So….” I decide to spice things up by throwing on a JB level pouty face. “Food?”

He chuckles. “Yes, Acid Queen Alice. Food.”

We get out of the car and make our way into the diner. 70s music blares from the little jukebox across the way. A couple of my co-workers wave hello to me as they pass. They ask how I’m doing, how Sabrina is holding up, the usual chatter. I just tell them we’re both fine and wander away with Hiram. We go over to the bar area and take a seat. Pop Tate finishes cleaning out a milkshake glass when he sees that.

“Miss Beauchamp! You’re back!” I wave hello as he comes our way. I start to apologize for skipping so much work, for not being able to do my shift for tonight. Despite how badly I want to explain that a nurse I just met escape from a massacre, and Hiram’s daughter attacked him, and both girls we care about have gone MIA, I have to bite my tongue on those. He tells me not to worry over it, he has enough staff to get through tonight. “Do you think you can start work again tomorrow?”

“Sure thing.” I glow at him. “Nobody’s been missing my pies too much, have they?” We both laugh at the comment, though I might end up cringing at myself later. Pop asks if we’ll take our usual orders. Normally, I would have time to savor over a plate of chicken tenders and fries, but time has not been my friend today.

Luckily, Hiram provides the explanation on behalf of us. “If you’re able to do it in a timely manner tonight, Pop. There’s something we have to do, and the sooner we get a move on….” Pop glares at us funny. I can almost hear him asking, _What do you mean?_

“Pop,” I start, “have you seen Sabrina or Veronica around earlier? It’s fine if you haven’t, but….we lost track of them this afternoon, and….we’re worried that….”

Hiram fills in the rest for me, “But if you are able to….if the girls do come around here later tonight, would you let one of us know?”

“Why would I need to do that?” The question sits with me funny. Now I’m wondering what Pop means. But before either one of us can ask for clarification, a new voice enters the conversation. One that we spent the afternoon worrying over.

“Daddy?”

Hiram and I both rotate to find the body matching the dismembered voice. She’s still in her Pop’s uniform. Her hair’s been pulled back into a low, loose ponytail. But nothing seems that off about her appearance. No twigs sticking out of her hair, no dirt on her skin or her shoes. Physically, she’s alright, but I can’t guarantee how she is mentally. But she’s alive. Veronica is alive.

And behind her, just a few feet away, a tiny blonde gives me a sorrow look.

Her name escapes from my lips. “Sabrina.”

XXXXXXXX

**SABRINA**

It was a miracle I was able to find V. I thought I would have to hitchhike all over town to scan the streets for her. Luckily, I stayed on foot the entire time, checking all the place I figured she’d be. The school locker room. The library. The coffee shop. No sign of her. I considered going to Pembrooke and checking in with the staff there. Andre might have caught a glimpse of her. Or Mister Smithers. But when I thought about it, I realized it wouldn’t be a good idea. Salem could be there, and I was in no mood to confront him. Nor was I in the mood to confront Ali. Not just yet.

I also don’t think I’d want to see Mister Lodge in pain. V wasn’t at fault, she didn’t mean to hurt him! But….but she still did something unlike what I’ve seen her do before. It reminded me of how she set that dummy on fire the night Moose and Midge were shot at, and when she couldn’t snap out of her faze. But this time, she had it under control. She released that energy onto her father, fully aware of herself in that state, even if it was merely an accident. If V has been overtaken by her condition, will it be possible to disintegrate its presence in her? Will I get back the girl who showed me around on my first day? Will I get my best friend back?

I kept running through town, making my way towards Pickens Park. I kept calling her name, hoping for some sign of her. The sky darkened, meaning not as much light available for me to conduct my search. I passed by a handful of families and young couples, asking if they have seen a raven-haired girl in a cheerleading uniform zoom through the area, earning me blank responses or shaking heads. The sun continued to fade away, I was getting lost through this place of familiarity. I was about ready to give up, then I remembered – I’m a witch! I could use a spell to summon her, or to help me track her steps! I resort to one spell I used as a child, playing hide-and-seek throughout our house with Ambrose or with Auntie Hilda. The spell allows for the seeker to follow the steps of the hider from their scent, or their aura. For the sake of today’s events, I recalled V’s aura color and conjured the spell in a quick manner. I was unsuccessful for the first handful of areas I visited, only going into bushes or other park attendants. I decided to try over by where I had V training. The ashes of the burned dummy were buried under the snow. The echoes of Moose and Midge’s screams nearby in Lovers’ Lane reached my eardrums. I performed the spell again, hoping it would be the last time I would have to perform it today.

V’s tracks appeared in her aura color. It led me passed the park bench where we had our meal from Pop’s, going into where Salem disappeared into the woods. If Salem found V before I did, I would never forgive myself. Fortunately, I got there first.

The instant I saw the royal blue and buff yellow sticking out like a sore thumb in the snow, I sprinted over. “V!” I called out, but she wasn’t listening to me. She kept her head down to the ground, running her fingernails across her palms. I finally came over to her and knelt down in front of her. I placed my hands on her shoulders, startling her. “V! It’s just me! I’m going to take you home.”

She blinked at me for a little bit. The dark veins on her face faded the more she reclaimed her familiarity with me. She gasped for air, sniffling back tears. “Is my….” she started, choking on her own words. “Is my father alright? Did I kill him?” My mind flashed back to Mister Lodge with that horrible spot on his chest. I heard noise come out of him before I left to find V, so I guessed he was okay. But V didn’t know that.

“I’m going to take you back to him, okay? We’ll get this all sorted out, V. I promise.” Her lips wavered. She was shivering. I didn’t want to keep seeing her like this. I didn’t want to see V punish herself for an accident beyond her control. I didn’t want her to end up like me.

I pulled her in for a tight hug, hoping it would provide some warmth. She wept into the space between my neck and my shoulder, muttering “I’m sorry, ‘Brina. I’m sorry.” She kept doing that for a while until I pulled out and cupped her face. By then, I was beginning to shiver too. And I was hungry.

“You want to go someplace warm?” I asked. She nodded, not giving me a fight.

That’s how we wound up here at Pop’s, slowing consuming our dinners while our classmates sneered at us from booths across the diner. The events of this afternoon still leave me out of whack. I can still hear the Riverdale student body yelling at me to get out of their school, demanding I burn for what V and I “did” to the Vixens. I bet the Dark Lord is having a field day listening to the cries for my persecution. Maybe he’s deciding to not have me go on trial after all – why demand for me to follow the Path of Night when Riverdale teenagers can deliver me to him themselves?

I push the thought out of my head and reach for a chicken tender. The breading melts on my tongue, the grease embraces the insides of my cheeks. I look over at V, who’s barely touched her meal. She has her hair back in a low, loose ponytail, just so it’s not polluting her face. I ask her what’s wrong.

She sighs. “That wasn’t the first time I lashed out at Daddy. As a toddler, I couldn’t control my energy. I’ve wounded Daddy too many times to count on two hands. That’s primarily why he gave me the pearls.” I nod my head, remembering when she told me and Salem of the pearls’ origin story. V rests her cheek onto one palm. “I’m amazed I didn’t hurt my mother in the same fashion when she was still alive.”

My back straightens when she finishes saying that. Does V actually believe she could have brought harm to her mother? Does she think she killed her mother? No….no, I find that very hard to believe. V is not a killer in any way, shape, or form. If that is true, then what would explain her violent tendencies? Could it stem from Mister Lodge’s side of the family? Perhaps, but I’m too drained and emotionally stifled to jump to any sort of conclusions right now.

Although, my curiosity still gets to the worst of me. I ask her, “What do you mean by that?”

“Daddy tends to avoid any discussion about my time as a baby, before my mom’s death. Probably could be from post-traumatic stress, or long-term grieving. But, yeah….every time I ask Daddy about what my mom went through when she had me….he just goes quiet. Or he just outright changes the topic of conversation. I’ve never had a clear answer come out of him.” I watch V pick up a french fry and start to nibble on it.

“That almost sounds like what my Aunties do when I ask about my parents’ deaths.” I tell her. I really do relate to V in that sense. Aunties will dodge the question on what happened the day my parents died, how they wound up dying in a plane crash, why they were on that plane in the first place….

The only story I’ve heard, mostly from Ambrose, was that Dad had wanted to take my mother to Italy, a lifelong destination she wanted to visit. I know a council for the Church of Night does exist somewhere in that country, led by an Anti-Pope. I’ve come to guess that maybe Dad wanted to meet with the Anti-Pope while still heading our group in Greendale, and he saw an opportunity to bring my mother with him. How I didn’t end up on that plane with them is still a mystery. Why I haven’t met any of my mother’s human relatives….if there are any living relatives of hers, will never be resolved either.

Would Dad have been aware of what evil resides in Riverdale? Mister Lodge must have been representing Riverdale for a while, because I’m not sure if Aunties have brought up this place before my trial. In fact….I never knew this place had this much activity outside of the high school’s athletic rivalry with Baxter. Would my dad have known about the Riverdale Reaper? About the Blossoms leading witch-hunts all over town? About all the dead caused by the Reaper? By Salem? By me….

I go to reach for my neck out of instinct, and only then do I realize I haven’t reached for Dad’s amulet in a while. Like how V has stopped wearing her pearls when she goes to school. Out of sheer embarrassment, I let my hand drop down to the table, drumming my fingers. I need to stay focused on V and her condition. The depth of its power still puzzles me. If only I had any material from home to expedite research for treatments. If only Jughead and I still had those books that belonged to his grandfather….

My fingers stop drumming. My jaw tightens to the point where it could lock. What if this isn’t a case of dark witchcraft, but….but something more sinister all together? Something like….demonology?

No, I’m thinking too extreme. I sound like an online conspiracy theory forum that Jughead probably visits. But it could make sense. Jughead might have some insight from all that time pouring through demonology books and his grandfather’s materials. What if V somehow got infected by a demon? Or what if Salem’s presence is wearing off on her? She has spent more time with Salem lately, so that could be it! I make a mental note to approach Jughead on the subject when I get back to the trailer park.

V starts to notice the current state of my face. And I notice her staring at my current state of face. Would it be violating her privacy by roping Jughead into her problems? I don’t know….but if I want to help V get better, it might be the only choice I have.

I theorize with her out loud, “What if we found a way to help you recover any lost memories?” V raises her brow at me, not catching onto my train of thought. I lean forward, lowering my voice so the rest of the diner won’t hear me. “We could use a spell to make your dad tell us about your early childhood. That could help us track your condition down to its origins. And we can learn how to control it. And how to keep….” I have to stop myself before I can say the rest. What’s really sitting on my brain. And how to keep Salem from influencing you to finish what he started.

Somehow, V is able to finish my thought, or get a sense of where I’m going. “You still think Salem will turn around and hurt me?”

“I’d never forgive myself if he did, V!” I sigh, lowering my head down to the table. I run my fingers along my half-filled plate of food. My mind still sits on the idea of recruiting Jughead to pull up facts on V’s symptoms. My conversation with him from last night replays in my head. Me recovering from my psychopomp attack. Him worrying about Joaquin’s safety. Me asking Jughead to kill Salem if all else failed….

A grin forms on my face, slow and calculated. I look up at V. “Which is why I may have asked Jughead for back-up as a worse case scenario.”

The intent of my answer was to give V some hope. To show that we can provide safety. But that intent does not translate well to V. At least not at first.

She cocks her head back in confusion, “Why would we need Jughead for….” The reason I brought up Jughead finally hits her, and….let’s just say it does not make her happy. V’s eyes flare up, dark veins form on her face again. Her voice amplifies when she says, “Wait…..‘Brina, did you tell Jughead about me?”

Realizing the mistake I made, I reach for her hands, pressing my stomach into the edge of the table. “I only told him about us being witches, not about your condition!” Some of the people here start to glare at us, wondering why V has grown so upset. I have to diffuse the situation before something happens…..like what happened earlier at school.

“That’s why we’re doing the article on the Reaper together, V.” I speak to her in a calming voice, “With his knowledge on this town, and with my knowledge on the supernatural, I think we found a way to stop Salem from killing more people. And it could help us find a way to help you.”

V begins to lose some of the veins, but my explanation has not brought her calm or clarity, yet. She takes a deep breath, then says, “No offense, ‘Brina, but since when does Jughead Jones _THE THIRD_ have a right to psychoanalyze my private affairs?” I go to open my mouth, to tell her that no, I would never let Jughead treat V like a frog in biology class ready for dissection. I only want to help her, I would say. Well, I go to say, until V cuts me off, with tears on the brink of shedding.

“Do you think I’m not aware of what people say about me? About Daddy? Everything I do is to make up for whatever rumors Midge, and Ginger, and Tina say about us. I know everyone in Riverdale sees the Lodge Family as some _Godfather_ knock-off mafia family, which we’re not! They’ll always see me as the spoiled rich girl that publicly cancels her teammates on social media and deals with daddy issues. And now…..after today…..they’ll see me as much worse than that.

“I know you mean well from the bottom of your heart, ‘Brina. I know you want to help me find a cure. But what if I can never be cured? What if I don’t _want_ to be cured? If the citizens of Riverdale want to see me as a monster, so be it. I know what I am. I practically sealed my fate the moment I went up against Midge Klump in that locker room. Maybe I _am_ the reckoning that will eat Riverdale alive.”

When she ends her speech, she leans back into the booth, making her fingernails and the insides of her hands kiss. The veins fade away. Dark colored water streams out of her eyes. I can’t do anything but just watch as my best friend spirals. I feel ashamed now. I didn’t consider what tormented her brain. I know she knew about Midge’s comment, I didn’t once think she took those rumors to heart. To think that she escaped what would have been said back in New York, following her incident with Nick St. Clair and his family, only to face much worse in a place that was meant to protect her. In a place I thought would protect me too.

And now I have a malicious familiar running loose, three people that I sent to the Dark Lord himself, and a tarnished relationship with Ali.

V sniffles. “Or I will be, sooner rather than later. I’m already a reckoning to my father and his family.” Just as she finishes that sentence, the doors chime, followed by a pair of bodies entering the diner. My head tilts to the side, I lean out to see who just walked in. My tense expression softens, a tinge of pain and guilt smack me in the face. It’s Ali and V’s father, most likely looking for us.

However, V does not see them, nor does she recognize what I’m looking at. She continues, “I can never do anything right with him. And I take it out on him unfairly. And….I think this time, I went too far. What if this afternoon was the last time I would see my father alive, ‘Brina?”

Ali and Mister Lodge don’t turn to face our direction. They’re at the counter conversing with Pop Tate, unaware of our presence. Mister Lodge is walking around, which is a relief. But he looks worn out, and so does Ali. As much as I want to avoid making eye contact with her now, I still want the truth about her past. And I want V to have an opportunity to make amends with her father.

I point a finger over at the adults. “It’s not.”

Finally, V turns around to see her father upright and holding conversation with another human being. Her emotions turn on full force. She climbs out of the booth and begins to walk over in their direction, stopping just a few feet away.

“Daddy?” her cracking voice rings out. Mister Lodge turns away from Pop Tate to see his daughter. I climb out of the booth just as Ali sees me. She mutters something, my name I’m guessing, but I don’t say anything in return. I really have no words for her right now. I only care about what will happen between the Lodges.

V’s father leaves the counter, bewildered and heartbroken. But he knows now that his daughter is okay. She’s safe and she’s with me. He breaks down into tears. “ _¿Mija?_ ”

“Daddy!” V sprints towards him, he comes to meet her halfway. The Lodges cling to one another in a tearful reunion, her head pressed against the space between his shoulders, his tears falling into her ponytail. It’s so loving, I think this is the first time I’ve seen V truly bond with her father. Whenever I witness their interactions, I only notice slight banter back and forth between them, or cold exchanges. But deep down, Mister Lodge does care for V, and she for him. It’s evident now watching them mumbling _I’m sorry_ multiple times in a tight embrace. In a way, I envy their interaction. I want that closeness. I want that care. I want a real family.

I thought I had it here with me in Riverdale. But I can barely look at Ali now, because when I do, I don’t see the witch that defended me in front of my aunts. I don’t see the friendly face that volunteered herself to be my guardian.

All I see now is a woman with a skeleton hiding in her closet, one she wants to dress up before she presents it to me, begging for forgiveness.

V lifts her head up, fighting back another sob. “I thought I killed you.”

Mister Lodge uses his thumb to smooth out the rivers forming under her eyes. He makes an attempt to smile, to sound optimistic for the sake of his daughter. “You didn’t. I’m still in your corner, _mija_. I’m still here.”

She sniffles, shaking her head from side to side. “Just…..just don’t make us pack up and leave for another town. Don’t make me hide from our mistakes again. I’m tired, Daddy. I don’t want to run anymore.” A few people around the diner begin to send funny looks towards the Lodges. Some continue to give me the evil eye. Mister Lodge cradles her head, kissing her temple before pulling her back in for another hug. I think I hear him mutter, _We’re not going anywhere_.

Ali sneaks over to my side, almost catching me off guard. But I baby step away before she can swarm me. I try to make myself look pleasant, more grateful for her presence. If that’s even how I’m supposed to feel right now.

“It’s a good thing Mister Lodge turned out okay.” I make small talk with her, my throat going dry. I reach back over to my table to grab my drink. I glance down at my cup and take a long sip, hoping Ali will get the hint that I’m not in the mood to talk.

“It wasn’t easy.” She says, followed with, “Where did you find Veronica?”

Okay, this is a question I can’t quite ignore. It’s a safety concern. So, I set my drink down and return my full attention to Ali. “Pickens Park. We got here about an hour ago.”

Ali nods her head all dazed. She bites the inside of her cheek. Is she going to ask me if I was planning on telling her? I don’t want to be chastised right now! Especially not if I’m already in trouble with her over this stupid article! When did Ali become a helicopter parent?

I roll my eyes at her. “I was going to text you after we finished eating. I was planning on walking V back to Pembrooke myself.” I look back over at the Lodges, who are now conversing with Pop Tate. V’s eyes wander throughout the diner, looking more wounded under her father’s wing. Yes, she’s safe now, and so is Mister Lodge. It doesn’t necessarily mean their relationship is a hundred percent healed. It doesn’t mean the scars fade away that quickly.

“Thank you, Sabrina.” I hear Ali mumble. I turn my head, just to find Ali looking away from me and over to my plate of food. She brings her hands together and nibbles on her bottom lip. I could tell her to grab a table for herself and Mister Lodge, to leave me and V to finish our dinner in peace. Or I could just tell her to go back to the trailer park and leave me alone. Just until she’s ready to tell me the truth.

Or maybe I should just ask her if she would like to sit with me, to finally ask the questions I’ve had on the back of my brain for the past handful of days about the Reaper, about her past, about Hal Cooper. I could learn why she bleeds the way I do, why she gets sick the same way I do, all of it. I want to get to know Ali again, for who she really is.

Was. Who she really was, before she met me. And who I’ve become since conjuring Salem out of that house. It might do us both some good to empty out the skeletons from both of our closets.

By the time I go to open my mouth, V and her father return to our area. Mister Lodge brings his gaze to me. “I’ve already arranged with Pop Tate to put both of your orders under my tab, so don’t fret over paying.” Then, he looks at Ali, his eyes softening. “I got your order in as well, if that’s alright with you.”

Ali grins at him in return. “Fine with me.”

Mister Lodge removes his arm around V so she can sit down at our table. She looks up at me, as if she wants for me to sit next to her. And to have Ali and Mister Lodge sit across from us. So, I guess we all will be sitting together. Meaning no more reasons to hurt one another. No chance for me to pick through Ali’s brain about the Reaper.

“Make yourselves comfortable.” I tell the adults, going past Ali and sitting next to V. I reach for my food and eat it in silence.

XXXXXXXX

Our trip back is more painfully awkward than the remainder of dinner. Okay, it’s not that awkward, but Ali and I still haven’t spoken a word to one another, and we didn’t want to take time away from V and Mister Lodge getting their closure. Well, it’s a good thing we’re not talking right now. I’m worried that the questions lingering in my head will come out like daggers to Ali’s heart. I fear of sounding too harsh, when all I am is just desperate for escape, for survival. We can’t really, since Ali’s up in the front seat with Mister Lodge, and I’m in the back with V, gripping her hand tight. I look out to the world as we make our way back. I can feel Salem’s sickening energy reaching out to me. Begging for me to come back, to help him finish what we started. It makes my head go all dizzy, it causes me to go nauseous. I turn my head away from the windows, staring down at my kneecaps. I could care less if Salem wound up back at the trailer park. I could care less if he never came back at all. But at the same time, I do care, because what if he kills again? What if he comes back for Joaquin? For Jughead, or Archie, or Moose, or anyone else I’ve come to known in these past few weeks?

Mister Lodge pulls into the trailer park. There’s only a few porch lights on, some of our Serpent neighbors give dirty looks when the car enters the park. Ali taps on Mister Lodge’s shoulder, pointing towards the Joneses’ trailer. “I should go relieve Gladys and FP from nursing duties. I’ll keep you updated on Joaquin.” He drives the car closer to the trailer and puts the car into park. I silently watch as Mister Lodge takes Ali’s hand, his expression softening.

“Would you like for me to stay for a while? To help with anything?” Ali goes to breathe deep, then she turns to see V and me in the backseat. She lets out that breath in a huff.

“I’ll be alright. I bet Veronica wants to go home and rest.” she says, as if she thinks we’re not there. V sinks into her seat more, sending me a worried glance. I twist my head back straight and let it bobble against the head rest. Should V stay with me, just in case something happens between her and her father again? Or would going to see Jughead only fuel a higher fire, worse than the one she lit the match to at school?

V grins at Ali. “Don’t let us keep you waiting, Miss Smith. Thank you for your hospitality.” Ali nods. She reaches her hand up to touch Mister Lodge’s shoulder. It stays there for a little while, then she starts to climb out of the car. V turns back to me, and she squeezes my hand. She whispers, “It’s alright, ‘Brina. I’ll be alright.”

Mister Lodge exits the vehicle to join Ali outside. I make an opportunity to get one last moment alone with my friend. I take both of her hands into mine. “Could you promise me one thing?” I lower my voice, just in case the adults overhear us. V hesitates as she nods. “If Salem….” I have to stop for a moment. Saying his name feels like poison entering my body. Or a hex. But I have to push through. I continue, “If he comes back to Pembrooke, for whatever reason….”

She looks up to the roof of the car and huffs. “If what you told me is true, ‘Brina….I can’t guarantee if he’ll see Pembrooke as a safe space. I guess he’ll know you’re after him. Same with Jughead.” With the last part, she sends a deadly glare towards the Joneses’ trailer. My eyes go to Ali and Mister Lodge outside through the windshield. They have their foreheads pressed togethers, their hands intertwined. He’s muttering something to her, if only I could make out what was being said. I could, but I don’t really have the energy right now. Nor do I care of their….whatever they have. For all I know, he could be in on Ali’s secrets too. Just as much as Jughead’s parents are. If they are.

V squeezes my hands, bringing my attention back to her. “I’ll keep my eyes and ears open.” V reassures me. “But….could you also promise to not let Jughead become so involved in….” Her voice trails off. Her eyes go back to Jughead’s home, the dark veins reappearing, to my unease. No, it’s not unease, I’m jumping to conclusions. It’s more that I fear of her endangering Jughead, or worse…..endangering herself.

“I’ll make sure you disclose that information on your own terms.” I tell her, sending a grin in her direction. The veins disappear, her expression lightens up. She doesn’t keep her eyes on me for long though. She ends up staring out the windshield. Towards Ali and Mister Lodge.

“You think they’ll start dating, ‘Brina?” she points in their direction. I turn my head that way to find Ali lower Mister Lodge’s head downward. She kisses his temple, then she lifts it back up so her forehead can meet his with ease. I wonder if he knows of her demons, and if he could tell me of them. I wonder if they dated back in high school. In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen Ali be with anyone since she met me.

I tell V that their sudden dating wouldn’t surprise me. I leave out that despite my current anger towards Ali, I do wish her the best. And if that best is with Mister Lodge….so be it.

V looks down, tapping her fingertips on her kneecaps. The corners of her mouth lift. “I get worried sometimes that my father wants nothing to do with people. He talks to members of the Council, and others….but not in the way talks with your Aunt. They’re good together. I wouldn’t mind if she stuck around more.” She rolls her head to the side, to me. She gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “And that means we’d get more time too. Assuming you can stay here after your trial.”

Thought of my trial makes me gloomy. I huff. “Assuming I’m not trapped in Greendale forever.” My teeth sink in between the flesh behind my bottom lip. If I am made to go back home, to the life I once had, I won’t get the chance to redeem my wrongs with Chuck and Midge. I won’t be able to protect Jughead or his family, or Joaquin, from what may come next. I won’t get to stop Salem from ensuing mass destruction.

From outside the car, Ali leaves Mister Lodge, heading for the Joneses’ trailer. I guess that’s my cue to follow in suit. I turn to V one last time, saying, “Sleep well, V. And don’t stress. We’ll get through it together. All of us.” I don’t smile when I speak. I don’t provide any emotion in my eyes. I don’t think she wants my emotion right now, considering what she went through. I let go of V’s hand, and I get out of the Lodge’s car, bidding Mister Lodge a farewell as I follow Ali’s path.

Ali disappears into the trailer, leaving me out here in the cold. I should go in, I want to see Joaquin. But I’m terrified of facing judgement from Jughead’s mom and dad. I know they don’t mean any harm, Jughead said so himself. But if they react the way Ali did back at school, accusations without explaining her facts….who knows what could come of tonight. I don’t want any more blood shed. And I don’t want the Joneses to enter into a civil war with one another. Maybe publishing the article is a mistake. It caused Salem to force V’s hand. It caused Rose Blossom to die and Joaquin to flee. And it caused my relationship with Ali to crumble. If the same happened to Jughead and his parents, or to V and her father….I would never forgive myself. For now, there is no bad blood between V and Mister Lodge. I know this as I watch their family car drive out of the trailer park. As for the Joneses, it’s something I will have to bring up to Jughead when I next see him.

Good thing I don’t have to wait long to have that conversation. Because as I return my attention to the Jones Family home, Jughead walks out the front door, wandering down the steps with something in his hand. His hands, plural.

“You left your bag at school. You’re lucky no one got ahold of it and tampered with anything.” he says, holding out my bookbag to me. Oh. I never realized I left that behind. I quickly thank him and take the bag from him. I let it slouch to the ground as I glance past him, towards the front door.

“How’s Joaquin?”

“Surprisingly well, considering what he went through to get here.” Jughead glances back at the door himself. Does he want Joaquin to come out and join us? To get away from the adults? Well, there’s no sign of him at the door. Does he know I’m here? I guess, but he might be busy getting further interrogated by Ali. I huff, bringing our conversation to another hot topic.

“What about everyone at school?”

He clamps his mouth shut for a moment, just to glance down at the floor. His hands go to his hips before he can look back up at me. “The Vixens that fell are currently either in the hospital or with family, the other members have to quarantine. As for the rest of the student body….” He pauses to take a sharp inhale, “You and Veronica should prepare to mark “Relive the Salem Witch Trials” off your bingo cards.”

My heart sinks to my stomach. Of course, everyone still wants to see me and V as the villains. The thought makes my food want to come back up. Am I ready to face the wrath once I return to school? Hey, if I could stand up to the Church of Night on my birthday, I think I can handle a few high school bullies. And a town pulling out their pitchforks and cameras.

My fingertips run across my palm. I frown at Jughead. “I’m sorry if this jeopardized our chances of publishing the article. I know you worked so hard on it---”

“We _both_ did.” he clarifies. “And _no_ , you didn’t. The whole town’s on heightened alert, and it doesn’t help we have two powerful figures in Riverdale stepping down. They’re looking for a quick fix. Something….someone to throw the blame on.”

I scoff, pressing my lips tight together. “Just seems unfair, that’s all.”

“You’ve got no idea, kid.” A new voice catches my attention, coming from the doorway to the trailer. I’m taken aback by seeing Joaquin emerge in….well, not hospital clothes. I don’t know how he’s managing to stay warm with just one of Jughead’s jackets on over his dark shirt and a pair of sweatpants. His teeth chatter when he hurries down the steps to join us. He pats Jughead on the shoulder before addressing me directly. “Good to hear you weren’t infected with a seizure.”

My ears tear up when he says that. He’s trying to sound supportive of me, but I’m not the one who ran for my life from a demonic entity. My voice wobbles when I tell Joaquin, “I’m glad you’re alright. And alive.”

His nose crinkles. “To be honest, I don’t know how it was that I ended up surviving. I should have been there to help her….” His voice drops for a brief moment as he stares down at the ground. He hasn’t even said her name, but I know he’s referring to Rose Blossom. He looks back up at me, “Everything happened so quick. I needed time to get back to her, but this freak, he….he struck so fast, everyone at the Sisters was running for their lives. So, I put the others first. I left her behind, and I took care of who I saw first. Still doesn’t make me a hero….”

He stops to swipe a tear away from his cheek. I don’t understand, he saved lives! What other reason could he be seen as a villain? For running away? For telling the adults about our article? I still can’t come up with a clear answer, not until Jughead shoots me a look. One that says, Why else do you think he’s so afraid? Why do you think he came here?

It hits me, hard. “They think you killed Rose Blossom.”

Joaquin steps away from Jughead, running his fingers through his jet-black hair. He winces, “I don’t know why anyone thought to come to that place and raise hell. Look, I know I had my struggles there….but…..but, I’m not a killer! I never wanted to kill Rose!” He glances back and forth between me and Jughead. “And I didn’t mean to get you into trouble with your folks. I didn’t want to squeal on you two. Your Aunt….” he points to me, “She was asking if anyone had seen Rose before she died, or if I knew of anyone that was set out to hurt her. I couldn’t think of anyone for the latter, but I knew you two were her last visitors. That’s why I told them about your article.” He drags the sides of his thumbs across his cheeks, clearing away any forming tears.

Hearing his explanation, I realize that no matter what Jughead and I would have done, Ali and Jughead’s parents would learn of the article. Of what dangers Jughead and I got into. Maybe it was a bad idea for us to journey over to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. Maybe Rose Blossom would still be alive, and Salem wouldn’t have brought chaos to that place. But I don’t blame Joaquin for what he did. I don’t blame him for anything he did to simply stay alive. To fight for his freedom. The way I did, and still do.

I may not have a chance to choose my own fate, but Joaquin does. And it helps that I happen to know the identity of Rose Blossom’s murderer.

So, I say, “I believe you, Joaquin.” This puts a stop to his panic attack. He straightens his back and glances down at me with wounded eyes. I have to be careful with my words when I tell him, “I think I know….I think whoever killed Rose was inspired by the recent deaths here. The killer must have made a connection, and….they’ll do what they can to hide in the shadows until all the pieces are in place. Until there’s no more blood to spill.”

Joaquin looks up to the sky, then brings his sights back down to us. He scoffs with a sorrow smirk. “You know, kid? Shakespeare was right. _These violent delights have violent ends._ We’re all just pawns in this freak’s game.”

“So….what now?” Jughead asks. “Will you stay here with the Serpents and lay low? Or are you gonna go back….”

“Who’s gonna take care of Ricky?” Joaquin jumps in unexpectedly. Ricky? Is that Joaquin’s boyfriend? Another Serpent? His….oh. Oh. Joaquin sniffles, “Someone’s gotta look after my little brother, ‘cause my parents certainly aren’t. I just want to keep him safe. I want to keep everyone safe. Even Toni….”

He places a hand on the back of his head, glancing around nervously. However, my mind remains on the last name he just muttered. Toni? Wait, that was the girl Jughead asked about. Is she here? Would she have met Ali? The questions loom in my head, my anticipation building. I look up at the windows to the side of the trailer, hoping to find any life source radiating from inside. Or a voice to explain why Ali and the Joneses are taking so long, or why they haven’t come out.

Jughead places a hand on Joaquin’s shoulder, a reassuring gesture. “Hey, you know my parents are gonna step in and help no matter what, right? They’ll make sure no one hurts Ricky.”

“I know that, Jones.” Joaquin sniffles. “But I still feel like I’m letting him down. Like I’ve let everyone down, including your folks. I don’t want the whole planet to jump in and fix my problems. I don’t want anyone else to decide my future for me. I….I just…..” He squeezes his eyes shut, unsure of how to keep going without breaking down. He forces himself to breathe in, then out, over and over just enough to calm himself down.

Moments pass before Joaquin opens back up his eyes. “If those assholes from the Sisters, or anyone sympathizing with Rose Blossom….if they wanna hunt me down and send me to the electric chair, they’ll be in it for the long run. Because I won’t go down without a fight. I want them all to know that they couldn’t wreck me or accuse me of lying. If I die, I want to die knowing I did the right thing. That I’m innocent. That I’m still me.” He looks back and forth between us again, taking a bit of time to contemplate his next sentence. I’m still contemplating whether it would be wise to stay here at the trailer park tonight, or if I should go back into town, to Pembrooke where I know I’m in good company. I’m wondering if it’s worth hunting down Salem and ending my connection to him once and for all. I’m wondering if Jughead and I should go on with this article, assuming Ali and Jughead’s parents, or even Joaquin, won’t rip into us about it. I don’t know why I think Joaquin would, he hasn’t brought it up expect to apologize for unintentionally throwing us under the bus. Perhaps he did it to keep Jughead and me safe. Maybe he assumed we already told the adults of our plans. Whatever the reason was, I think he’s just as petrified about us publishing the article as Ali, as Mister and Mrs. Jones….

Which is why I’m stunned when he says, “That’s why I think you two should go ahead and publish the damn thing.”

Jughead dons the same level of shock on his face as I do. It’s not as eye-opening, but it still conveys the same message. For me, it’s an eye-opener, because UNHOLY HECK JOAQUIN IS GIVING US HIS BLESSING? HOW? WHEN….

“You read the article?” I finally ask, breaking our prolonged silence.

Joaquin nods his head, so does Jughead. “He read it when I came home from school. So did my parents. And my sister. And….” He tilts his head towards the front door. “I think your Aunt’s reading through it now. Who knows what sort of criticism we’ll both get. But if your Aunt and my parents are that serious about wanting to clean ourselves of the bad blood….” His voice trails out, indicating that I should know the rest.

And I do. “The article will leave them no other choice but to tell us everything they know.” Excitement over washes me. I smile so big I could give the Cheshire Cat a run for his money. This could be good for me, and for Jughead and Joaquin! The article will not only force Salem out of hiding, but maybe it will help Joaquin avoid facing a death sentence, and….it might finally lead me and Jughead to learn about Hal Cooper.

It’s so exciting, it feels so unreal. I feel like I’m being punked. So, I clarify with Joaquin, “Are you sure? I mean, aren’t you worried it will throw you into further trouble with the police?”

My question practically makes him chuckle. “Sabrina….getting that article out into the open will be what saves my life. All I ask is that you don’t leave me as “Anonymous”. Get my name on that final publication.” His crying stops, he’s able to stand up with more confidence. Joaquin lets out another exhale, feeling the weight lift off of his shoulders. “I left Rose behind. I won’t let her legacy go to waste. So, you got my full support on telling the tale of the Reaper. Let’s just hope it exposes Rose’s killer once and for all.” My emotions go high that one moment I see Joaquin so happy again, more sure of himself. But it falls again, halfway through his speech. What he said echoes the words I heard earlier today. Ones that preceded the hatred lashed out at me and V.

**_We will bring Midge justice….I won’t let her legacy be tarnished. You have no place in our community anymore._ **

My heart nearly stops. My arms go numb. Laughter rings in my ear drums. Something comes out of one nostril, I go to dab it. From the little light coming out of the Joneses’ trailer, I can make out the red hue sitting on my fingertip. That’s odd. Salem is nowhere near me to cause a nose bleed. Why is this happening to me? How?

Jughead comes over to my side, snapping me out of my thoughts. He mutters so Joaquin won’t hear, “We can get it put up on the Blue and Gold’s website tonight if you want. That way it’s ready to go in print by the end of the week. Think you’re ready, Teenage Witch?” I blink at him, not saying a word. Can he tell I just had a nose bleed? Can Joaquin? I don’t have time to sit on my behind and wail about my own problems. Joaquin’s life is in our hands. So is V’s life, and anyone Salem could go after next. Besides, Hal Cooper’s story is waiting to unfold right in front of me….

I look back at Joaquin, grinning at me. I look out to the woods beyond the trailer park, wondering if Salem is mocking me, waiting for me to make the wrong move. I want to find him, I do. But is it worth risking another life? Is it worth facing more hell at school than what I will face when I get home?

No. I’ve already committed to going down this path. I committed to helping Jughead find the truth. My personal fight with Salem can wait.

I turn back to Jughead, quickly wiping the blood away from my nostril. Then, I lift my chin up to the sky. “Alright. Let’s get it up and going.”

XXXXXXXX

_SABRINA WE HAVE TO KEEP GOING **COME ON**_

My feet fly in the air running through this forest so late at night. I don’t know how I wound up here. I don’t remember running towards anything, away from anyone. The last recent memory I can recall is standing over Jughead’s shoulder as he clicked PUBLISH to upload our article onto the Blue and Gold’s website. We had to do it while Ali and the Joneses were distracted, we had to do it while Joaquin stood by on guard for us. The boys were relieved when the website displayed the successful completion of our upload. They were practically ready to go down to Pop’s and celebrate with a milkshake. Yet, I still felt guilty. Something about the Reaper, about Rose Blossom, and Hal Cooper still felt so wrong. Like I unleashed the monsters in Pandora’s box when I should have left it alone.

Now, here I am running deeper into the woods, following a disembodied voice getting farther and farther away. Why does the voice sound familiar? Is it Jughead? Joaquin? Moose? Archie? HARVEY?

**_SABRINA_ **

The top of my foot makes contact with a tree root in the ground. I stumble, almost landing on my face, but I’m able to recover. My heartbeat accelerates, my breathing becomes unsteady. Who are we hunting? _Who is hunting us?_

“I’M HERE!” I cry, hoping I can bring the source of this voice into my view. “WHERE ARE YOU?”

Crows caw above me in the sky, hundreds from the looks of it. Their behaviors reminds me so eerily of those psychopomps I faced from when I did the Astral Projection spell. I look up to find these birds swarming the air. They form what looks to be a spiral shape. I could laugh – it’s stereotypical of any horror movie to have birds come together in a shape representing cult-like, or demonic, behavior.

But this is not a horror movie. This is real life, and for reasons I do not know, I’m in danger.

Footsteps come from behind me, charging faster. It forces me to pick up the adrenaline and run in the opposite direction of it. I would want to turn around to see who is making that noise, but I’m too scared to look back. Who is it? A witch from Greendale coming to collect me on behalf of the Dark Lord? The risen corpse of Chuck, Midge, or Rose Blossom? V? SALEM?

**_SABRINA_ **

I don’t want to know what led me here, why I can’t get out of this. My path begins to narrow, leaving me with little to no options. I can either risk my chances of continuing down my path, or I can fall behind and get attacked by whoever is chasing me.

Or I can fight back, giving this creep all the magic I can. So that’s what I do. I get myself to safety behind a tree, away from the view of my chaser. I find another looming tree to my side, it could be enough to block its path. It could crush him, leaving me to roam these woods in peace. I concentrate on the wind blowing through the branches, the roots embedded into the ground below. The wind howls. The roots cower back, leaving the ground unsteady. With all my might, I use my magic to send the tree down.

The thump sends me back a few feet, but I still wind up standing. The wood of the bark splinters off to the sides, into the air. A groan comes out of the body underneath the tree, followed by a name. My name.

“Sabrina….”

My heart stops. This has to be a trick. My head has to be playing games with me. But it’s not. The voice I hear coming from its trapped place below the tree is one I know. One that would do anything to protect his children, his wife, and Ali.

“MISTER JONES!”

I run for the fallen tree. I spy Jughead’s father wincing in pain. I’m able to use telekinesis to get the heavy wood off of him, allowing it to roll down into the emptiness of the woods. I take a long look at Mister Jones….something’s off about him. His skin is discolored. His veins are more present on his face and neck than usual. His pattern of breathing is changing. Why was he following me out into the woods? And where is Jughead and the rest of the family?

He coughs, “Sabrina….where’s my boy?”

The infliction in his voice doesn’t sound like the father I’ve heard caring for his two children. It’s only masked to be that way. And the nature of his appearance is starting to creep me out. What exactly happened to Mister Jones before I sent that tree down on him? Why can’t I remember why I was running away?

I bend down to get a better look at him, to see why my gut feeling is telling me to run as far away as possible. His eyes are still shut, his demeanor comes off so innocent. I don’t trust it. I can’t.

“I don’t know where he is.” I tell him, “Is Jughead in trouble?”

The last question causes Mister Jones to act in a way I haven’t seen when his kids face danger. He laughs. I want to stumble backwards, to not trust anything coming out of his mouth. But I need to know why I’m afraid. Why he’s….

The eyes snap open. I’m greeted with the same set of eyes that took over Midge.

**_HE’S ABOUT TO BE IN TROUBLE, WITH YOU LEADING HIM TO HIS DEATH SENTENCE._ **

My back straightens. My feet lead me backwards, away from the fallen tree debris, away from…. No, I thought I was already taunted by him. His possession was the reason Salem went after Midge in the first place. But now he’s back.

The Dark Lord is back, and he’s taken over Mister Jones.

He makes the body rise up from the ground. He keeps Mister Jones’s eyes trained on me, and only me. He makes Mister Jones give me an eerie smile.

**_STILL REGRET NOT FOLLOWING DOWN MY PATH, GIRL? I THOUGHT YOU WOULD HAVE LEARNED YOUR LESSON BY NOW, CONSIDERING WHAT I TOLD YOU THE LAST TIME WE CHATTED._ **

I feel my anxiety increasing. Horrible memories come to my head, leaving me helpless. And abandoned.

“Leave Mister Jones and his family alone!” I yell at the creature in front of me. “They have nothing to do with this!”

But he doesn’t listen. He makes Mister Jones step forward, crushing the earth beneath him. **_DON’T YOU SEE? YOU HAVE BROUGHT THEM INTO THIS. YOU THROW YOURSELF INTO THIS PATHETIC LITTLE TOWN’S PROBLEMS BECAUSE YOU WOULD RATHER NOT FACE YOUR OWN. YOU CHOOSE NOT TO FACE ME._**

The words sting, much more so than what he told me during Midge’s possession. Is that really why I’ve avoided going home for so long? Am I really running from my own fate? From the Dark Lord himself? My head is spinning, the world feels so dreamlike…..no, more like a nightmare. He’s right – maybe I am choosing to not face my destiny deliberately to buy myself more time. But I have committed to my life here in Riverdale. I committed myself to helping Jughead and V, and Joaquin, and anyone else who could fall prey to Salem. I have to fix what I have done here before I can even think about going back home.

I make myself stand up taller, curling my hands into fists, lifting my chin up to the sky. I may be a sixteen-year-old half-witch, but I am not going to cower from monster. From Satan himself.

“You want me to come back to Greendale and get torn apart in a court to entertain you? Sorry, Satan, but you’re going to have to wait in line before you can get your hands on me.” My words make his smile disappear, his confident stance through Mister Jones more defeated. I keep my spirits high, the way I did on my birthday. “I won’t come home until I finish what I started here. And if that makes the Spellman name tarnished by the eyes of you and the rest of the Church, so be it! I have to do better! _Riverdale must do better_!”

My echo carries across the wind blowing through the branches, through the wings of the crows above us, through each snowflake falling to the ground. For this one moment, the world goes silent. The voices in my head finally go silent. I can breathe.

Then it all comes in again.

Using Mister Jones, the Dark Lord snarls, taking one step towards me, then another. **_FOOLISH, AND STUBBORN. JUST THE WAY YOUR FATHER PREDICTED YOU WOULD BE._** All my confidence goes out the window. The way my father….what does that mean? How would of Dad discussed my present behaviors with the Dark Lord? Is that why his ghost, and Mom’s, came to me on my birthday? Would he have known I’d be in trouble if I stayed? If I ran? I don’t have time to figure out my options, because the Dark Lord is getting closer and closer to me. **_RIVERDALE HAS NO FUTURE, SABRINA. AND FRANKLY, THE WORK YOU’VE DONE IN THIS PLACE WILL BRING THOSE MORTAL SOULS TO ME FASTER THAN EVER. THE WAY YOU DID TO THOSE KIDS YOU CALLED YOUR FRIENDS._**

My heart sinks. He doesn’t have to say their names, but I know who he’s referring to. Chuck and Midge don’t deserve to have their souls burning in hell. They never deserved for Salem to be their executioner. But I was the judge and the jury. I led them to Salem, and eventually to the Dark Lord. All because I wanted my friends to be happy. All because I wanted to be happy.

_These violent delights have violent ends_. The words from Shakespeare come into my head, reminding me of the wrongs I caused. The people, and the monsters, I have angered. The stories of Riverdale I have yet to unfold. The life of Hal Cooper. The legacy of the Reaper. Ali’s backstory….

Ali. Where is she? Why can’t she make him stop? Oh, I should have followed her advice! I did mess up by letting Jughead publish that article, because now his father is being possessed by the one entity that wants my soul over everything else.

Come to think about it, why does he want me so desperately? What about my rebellion angered the Dark Lord to the point of throwing me into an ongoing lawsuit that may never occur if I die in Riverdale? None of it makes sense. Neither does what he said about my father’s views of me. There has to be a reason the Dark Lord possessed Midge, and why he’s in Mister Jones.

“That’s not going to convince me to sign my name in the Book, and you know it!” I yell back at him. “What is it about me wanting both freedom _and_ power that scares you so much? What does my father’s opinions from years ago suddenly have to do with my current life choices?” My blood boils. My veins pulse. I’m freezing out here, and I don’t want to lose my chances of finding the disembodied voice calling me to safety. I have one shot left at defending myself. So, I fire away, “WHY ARE YOU PUTTING ME ON TRIAL IF YOU KNOW I’LL NEVER JOIN YOU?”

The Dark Lord makes Mister Jones’s head bow, his stance staggering a little. A low registered chuckle comes out of the body. It grows into a full-bellied laugh, so sinister it can make my ears bleed. The wind screeches, sounding like the screams of all that died at my hands and his. My brain feels like it will melt. My eyeballs can pop out of my head at any moment. I want it to stop! Just as I’m about to beg for mercy, for relief, the Dark Lord lifts his head. Mister Jones’s teeth transform into daggers. The Dark Lord has turned his eyes so red I can barely make out the white in them. In that moment, I know I have lost.

He says, **_YOU WANT ANSWERS, GIRL? GO ASK YOUR AUNT._**

There it is again. The same notion Hal Cooper wanted me to follow.

**_Ask your Aunt….._ **

Wait, which aunt is the Dark Lord referring to now? Auntie Z? Hilda? ALI? Whoever, whichever…. I can’t wrap my head around it so easily. What elements of my trial do my aunts know about that hasn’t been shared with me? What are they hiding? WHAT DOES ALI KNOW?

My thought train comes to a screeching halt by the sound of a bullet whizzing through the air. The next thing I know, the Dark Lord screeches in pain. He uses Mister Jones to fall down to his knees, clutching his upper arm. I look for the source of the bullet, the reason the Dark Lord has stopped taunting me with family.

I’m stunned to find the body that matched the voice just moments ago, wielding the family rifle in his hands. “JUGHEAD?”

He rushes down to my side, keeping the rifle aimed at the Dark Lord, in his father. “It’s alright, Sabrina.” he says, out of breath, “I’m doing what I promised.”

Doing what he promised? What could that…..

It hits me. He means killing Salem if V and I couldn’t make it. Ending the misery in this town once and for all.

Anxiety runs through me. No – I only wanted him to end Salem’s life as a last resort, not while I’m still alive! And not with the Dark Lord possessing his own father!

I have to reason with him before it’s too late. The Dark Lord howls, I attempt to pull Jughead away. “No, don’t kill him! It’s your father, Jughead!” I know it’s technically not, but I’m doing what I can to de-escalate the situation here. I don’t want Jughead to wash the blood of Mister Jones off his hands. I don’t want to be the reason the Jones Family falls apart.

My attempt to persuade Jughead to walk away fails. He shakes his head while glaring at the evil inside his father. “No….no, he’s far gone. There’s no getting my dad back.”

I finally notice the cut on his lip. The line of blood over his eyebrow. What happened back at the trailer park? Why can I not remember?

The resident inside of Mister Jones looks up at Jughead. The voice coming out belongs to the man we know, but the eyes belong to someone else. Something I no longer want to associate with. “Jughead, boy….” he says, making direct eye contact with Jughead while lifting a finger up at me, “You know me. I’d never lay a hand on her. I’m not your grandfather, boy----"

“SHUT UP!” Jughead charges down at the inhabitant, readying the rifle for a more deadly shot. This is the opposite of what I wanted!

“WAIT – JUGHEAD!” I follow down after him, gripping my nails into the top of his shoulder. He whips his head back to me, his eyes glaring in anger. My heart could tumble out of my mouth, I feel nauseous. My free hand starts shaking to the point where it could go numb from the cold. My soul feels as if it’s disintegrating. And the longer I stand out here with the Dark Lord just feet away from me, the more my life crumbles to pieces.

I need to know what the Dark Lord meant by my father’s comments. I need to know the details of my destiny in the Path of Night.

For one last time, I plead, “Don’t do this, Jughead. If you kill him….I have no shot at winning my trial. I get no choice in my future.” I make myself go quiet before I can add on, If I even still have a future while I’m here in Riverdale….

The Dark Lord contorts Mister Jones’s lips to form a frown. He makes the older Jones begin to cry. He’s attempting to pull Jughead’s leg, to make us both more vulnerable.

In the most authentic version of Mister Jones’s voice, he says, “You heard the girl, Jug. Don’t kill me. Like me or not, I’m still your father. You’re still my boy. My only son.”

Jughead grows somber. His lips tremble. His eyes wet. The sadness doesn’t last long, it turns into fear. Rage. Disbelief. He lifts the rifle, aiming it at Mister Jones’s head.

**_CLICK-CLICK_ **

“I’m not your son, anymore.”

“JUGHEAD, NO!”

The gunshot rings in my eardrums as I jolt upward in the bed. I struggle to breathe, I grip the bedsheets for dear life. I finally become aware of my surroundings in the early light of dawn. It was a dream, just a very horrible dream. Mister Jones did not get possessed, Jughead didn’t shoot his father.

But the Dark Lord still came for me. He still taunted me with secrets my family may be hiding from me. What Ali is still hiding from me.

I look to my side, hoping Ali will be there to comfort me, to hold me in her arms and lull me back to sleep. But her side of the bed is empty. The sheets are neatly folded, showing not one crease. The alarm clock on the her side table drawer reads 7:03 AM.

The first of my waking instincts lead me to peel the sheets, caked with my sweat, off me. My feet land hard on the floor as I practically stumble out of bed. I hurry over to the bedroom door, opening it up to reveal more sunlight pouring into the kitchen window above me. I use a hand to block its powerful presence, my eyes still haven’t adjusted to the morning light yet. My heartbeat elevates in the worst ways. I don’t know where Ali is, I don’t know how I couldn’t remember falling asleep. I just want to see a familiar face. I want answers. More than anything, I just want to be okay.

My eyes follow over to the refrigerator, spying a small message left pinned under a magnet. I reach for it, tearing it out from the small magnet stuck on the fridge. I blink down at it a couple of times, making sense of the words in front of me. A message from Ali.

**_Left for my shift at Pop’s. Let’s arrange time to have our talk tonight. I love you so much. - Ali_ **

Anger. Mistrust. Fear. Abandonment. Guilt. All of these emotions hit me reading Ali’s little note. My senses go overboard, I can’t control the magic running through me. I crumble the note in my hands and toss the wad of paper down on the floor. My eyes can’t stay dry, my brain is ready to explode, I can’t breathe. I’m about to tumble down to the floor, crumbled up next to that paper wad. My chest rises and falls, my face flushes suddenly. I brace myself against the chair next to me, leaning on it for massive support. The air feels stuffy. I have to get out of this trailer before I have a breakdown.

But what about my dream? Why did Jughead kill his father in my dream? What did the Dark Lord mean about my father? Which Aunt is lying to me?

I turn on my heels and sprint back into the bedroom. My hands pull open drawer after drawer, digging through all my clothes. Where did I put it? Where did Dad’s amulet go? Everything I try to do to make myself calm down fails. My patience wears thin. I slam my fist onto the wardrobe, screaming at my reflection. My ears pop. The flesh on my face trembles. I’m spiraling and I can’t stop.

Eventually, my voice gives out, leaving my throat dry and hoarse. I cry harder, feeling more hopeless than before. My hand goes to the bottom of the drawer, my fingers come into contact with a piece of string. A jewel. I curl my fingers around the object and pull it up. How did Dad’s amulet get lost in here? I thought I had it in my backpack, or somewhere on top of the counter space! But I haven’t done a good job of keeping myself organized, have I?

I slip the necklace on, letting the amulet sit over my lungs as I choke back tears. The air is still stuffy, and I can’t regulate my body temperature. Would fresh air help? My feet shuffle when I leave the bedroom, out through the kitchen, outside. My hand remains glued to the jewel, my fingertips running across the grooved edges. My vision becomes distorted coming out of the trailer. The cold air hits my face, but it doesn’t snap me awake at the slightest. The stairs are slick from the wetness, I’m lucky I don’t take a nasty tumble stepping down and breaking any of my bones. Yet, I still land on my knees on the last step. The contact doesn’t leave me in pain, but I still feel like a mess. Like I deserved this.

I want to cry, but no more tears are coming out. In fact, I feel more exhausted than disappointed, than fearful and angry. My heartbeat still rises to an uncontrollable rate. I have to sit on the bottom step to catch my breath, which I can’t do all that well. I keep my hand at my heart, clutching Dad’s amulet, gasping for air, trying to keep what I have left of my sanity together.

Maybe the Dark Lord was right. I have put Riverdale into trouble all because I wanted to run away from my own troubles. Salem may have played the role of executioner, but I was the judge and jury. I led them all to die.

V is not the reckoning. I am.

This sudden realization brings a new wave of tears, ones I thought I could hold back. But it all comes out at once. I kept my retrieval of Salem and my roles in Chuck and Midge’s deaths a secret from the town. From Ali. And now, I’m turning around and blaming others, I’m blaming Ali for causing me to make those choices. I can’t accept my own faults, so I would rather fix the faults of others. I hate myself for acting this way. I hate myself for not acting like a grownup and bringing up these issues properly to Ali. Now, we may not get the chance at all to have our long needed conversation if I am called back to Greendale. If Salem causes Riverdale to implode on itself. If I die, or if she dies….

I bury my head into the insides of my elbows, letting my fingernails dig into my scalp. I let the sound of my crying overpower the rest of my senses. Well….not all of them. I hear someone coming over to me, their footsteps crunching into the snow. I can’t make out the shape of the person, nor the exact features. I can only see a pair of combat boots nearby my set of feet. I hear the voice of this stranger speak to me.

“Hey….” this person, a girl I think, catches my attention. “Hey, are you alright, kid? You took a pretty nasty tumble.” My fingernails release their grip from my head, I stare down at my hands numbly. They curl into baby fists, my fingers stiffening. My eyes feel swollen, dried out. The newcomer kneels down in front of me, she rests her hands on my forearms.

“Take deep breaths for me, okay?” she reassures me in a soothing tone. I’m too tired to fight back, so I follow her instructions, breathing in and out the way Ali taught me. The daisies and candles thing. I do this a few times through, allowing myself the chance to regain a sense of calm. When I do, I lift my head back up. I finally take in the features of the person in front of me.

The woman with pink hair I saw at Midge’s funeral – it’s her! When did she see me? How did she…. She must live on the Southside too, that has to make sense, right? But how could she have known I would slip on the stairwell? And….and why do I feel like I know her somehow?

Jughead and Joaquin mentioned a friend numerous times. A girl around Joaquin’s age that runs an oddities shop on the Southside. She was allegedly in the trailer with the Joneses and Ali last night. From what I keep hearing, she sounds like…..she sounds an awful lot like me.

The pieces finally fit together in my head. The pink haired woman, noticing my prolonged silence, asks me, “What? What is it?”

A smile forms on my face, weak but still visible. “You’re Toni.”

**XXXXXXXX**

**TONI**

I never made it out to Nancy’s meeting. I got so caught up worrying over Joaquin and the Joneses, I lost track of time. I let Nancy down. I let Fangs down. I let myself down.

But I don’t regret doing what I could to keep my friend safe. Shit – I hadn’t seen Joaquin in months. He just got away from a demonic serial killer, and now he’s being framed as said serial killer. That had to take some priority. It doesn’t guarantee that Joaquin will have the trailer park as a sanctuary for long though, no matter how much the Serpents want to provide their services. No….some Serpents, not all of them. The Joneses spent most of the night on the phone with the more higher-up Serpents, vouching to find Joaquin a hide-out, whether with Alice or somewhere on the Southside. From what I could overhear, most of the gang is ready to turn Joaquin in, loyalty or not. They don’t want the Serpents to fall into anymore trouble with the law than we already are. But what’s sad about this whole mess is that Joaquin’s been part of this gang as long as I have, and now the found family he joined is turning their backs on him.

I’m frustrated for him, and I’m frustrated for myself. It only further reinforces why I’m becoming more active in my fight for the Uktena. If I still have a chance to advocate for the Uktena. I may have just blown my shot by not going to Nancy’s meeting. I never got a chance to text her about my absence. I never met up with Fangs so we could go over together. I just left him hanging. I was so winded from looking after Joaquin and trying to keep the Joneses level-headed that when I got home, I crashed out. Well, I crashed out after having a massive breakdown on my bedroom floor.

Which leads me to my current state. I’m in a daze driving back to the trailer park. Every inch of me wants to say _Screw everyone in the Serpents, take Joaquin and Fangs, and leave town_. But reason tells me to hold on, to stay a little while longer. Just until the Uktena reclaim what is rightfully theirs. What is mine. I need to keep my cool before even attempting to conduct business as usual in the shop today. That means I have to stay away from my phone, despite all the messages, emails, and calls that keep coming through. I don’t know who sent them and what time they came in, but the overload is stressing me out. It’s better if I can get myself to work then examine the messages, otherwise I’ll lose it again.

I hop out of my car and go around to the passenger’s side to grab the set of bedsheets and food and water I packed for Joaquin. Just something new for him that isn’t leftover scraps, or just leftover anything. In a way, he’s like my brother. He, Fangs, and Sweets were brothers to me. They stook by my side when kids at school got testy, they let me couch surf with them when my uncle kicked me out and left town. They’re my family, and right now, my family needs support. The Uktena fight is important, yes, but I won’t let that stop me from protecting my family. Even if I do get myself burned out….

I’m about to grab the stuff out when I hear someone slip on the ice nearby. My head raises out of instinct, I’m looking for the source of the noise. From the opposite side of the Joneses’ trailer, a teenage girl crumbles onto the steps, weeping. I’ve seen her before…. Wait, the blonde from the funeral. Alice has mentioned her a few times in brief passing. Joaquin mentioned her yesterday….Sabrina, I think he said. I thought I saw her drop by last night in the trailer, but it might have been only to see Jughead, I can’t quite remember. But this girl looks so bent out of shape. So exhausted. There has to be a reason she slipped other than to pure clumsiness.

I make my way over to the girl. I try to call out for her, but she doesn’t quite hear me. I bend down to her level, having her go through some breathing exercises to calm her back down. She does, and in a matter of moments, she’s able to not look so teary-eyed. She takes a long time looking at me. Does she think she’s seen me before? I know she spotted me at the funeral. I’ve seen her with Jughead, but does she know I watched her movements? That I’ve seen the evils she may be experiencing?

A lot could be going through her head right now, yet she doesn’t look distressed from any of it. Which is why I ask, “What? What is it?”

I’m greeted with a weak smile from the girl. I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. My nerves begin to peak, it will need a lot to level myself out again. So, when she says, “You’re Toni.” I take a sigh of relief. Granted, it’s a little odd of a response. Her saying my name could mean a lot of things….

She still has her eyes on me as she follows up with, “You run that oddities shop in town, right? Jughead and Joaquin mentioned something about that.” My nerves finally die down. Okay, so she’s not asking out of cruelty, but out of curiosity. Because of Jughead and Joaquin.

I end up smiling myself. I nod my head at the girl. “Your mom’s been down there a couple times now. She actually covered for me yesterday, so….” The girl tilts her head at me in confusion. Hold on…..Alice isn’t related to this girl? Or is Alice just not her mother? I stand up, gesturing to her with my hands for clarification. “Alice. Yeah….your, um….”

“My Aunt?” she fills in the blanks. I stand there with my mouth gaping. Oh. So, Alice is her aunt? That makes sense. While the girl does share features, it’s only a coincidence. Not because of immediate blood relations. I close my lips together and nod at her. The little smile she has fades. Not because of anything upsetting, but more due to her coming to…..terms with something.

She looks up at me, more intently. “You’re the witch she went to go see, aren’t you?” My chin lifts up a little. I have to keep my eyebrow from doing the same. What did Alice tell this girl? Does she of the….of the séance? The girl stands up, practically matching my exact height. She clarifies, “To get her leg treated?”

The racing of my heart mellows out. I let my shoulders level back down, exhaling that breath of relief. Well, that’s good to hear. It doesn’t guarantee that she’ll learn more from Alice later, but for now, the girl’s safe. And I hope Jughead is as well.

I make up a quick response for the girl, “Yeah, some….herbal remedies. And ointment.” My hands slide into the pockets of my woolen lined jean jacket. I would have worn my Serpent jacket today, but it’s too damn cold, and frankly….I’d rather not affiliate with the Serpents a hundred percent at this time. With all this talk about Alice, I start to wonder if she’s nearby, or if for whatever reason, she accidentally locked the girl out. I lean my head to the side, peering up the steps to the front door. I don’t feel any other auras inside. “Is Alice here?”

“What?” The girl throws back at me, still in a daze. Once she realizes what I’m asking, she comes back to life. “Oh! Um….no. No, she….left for work. She won’t return until later, I guess.” Then, she goes quiet. She reaches for a piece of jewelry over her heart. A family necklace, I suppose, it looks like she has some attachment to it. She runs her fingers across the jewel’s grooves, waiting for its comfort to kick in. It reminds me of how I used to act, holding on to a mementos Granddad left behind if something troubled me. Is something troubling her now? I don’t want to creep into this girl’s head, but I don’t want to frighten the girl if I ask her to share her troubles with me. So, I decide to just take a quick glance, sensing the thoughts running through that little brain. She’s worried about the Joneses from what I gather. More importantly, she’s worried about the relationship between Mister Jones and his son….

I give up after a minute or two, afraid that if I continue on, I may not like what enters my own brain. I take my hands out of my pockets and huff. “Okay, well….when you do see her next, let her know that she can stop by my place if she needs a refill on anything I gave her.” I begin to walk away, leaving the girl by the base of the steps.

The girl calls back to me, “Oh, I’m sorry! I….” I turn back on my heels to face the girl. What could she be apologizing for? She looks more frazzled when she follows up with, “I don’t want to delay you from getting to work or anything?”

She’s so innocent, I could laugh. In fact, I do….a little bit. I gesture back to my car, “You’re not. I was….I was just gonna drop off some things for Joaquin.”

“I could help!” she jumps in, startling me a bit with her burst of enthusiasm. After reading my vibe, she takes it down a notch. “If you want….”

“Fine with me.” I shrug my shoulders at her, sending her a warm grin. Come to think of it, maybe having the girl bring up the supplies could take some weight off my shoulders. It could allow me to take my mind off the whirlwind that was yesterday. Even if it’s only for a little while.

I allow the girl to follow me over to my vehicle. I start by handing her the case of water bottles. I wait to see if she can maintain a good grip before I sling the bag of clothes over one shoulder. I take the bag of food into a free hand, then I motion for the girl to follow me. We’re able to get up the steps in a timely manner. I set the bag of food down and knock on the front door. There’s no response quite yet, maybe the family’s still asleep. The girl comes to join my side, struggling to keep the plastic casing from slipping from her hands, or breaking.

While we wait, I take more time to peer into her mind. Her panic over the Joneses’ relationship has me curious. Jughead and his dad seemed to be on good terms last night. They never really displayed any animosity between them, even when Mister Jones was in recovery for his alcoholism. Why this sudden tremble?

I see flashing images flowing through her head. Harsh voices coming to me as whispers. Jughead aiming a gun. Mister Jones….looking possessed. Dead.

My ears begin to ring. I find it difficult to breathe all the sudden. My head spins, my brain goes back to days ago. Mister Jones having his body act as the host for Louis Cooper. Him recounting the details of the Reaper possessing him. Louis going after Alice, wrapping his hands around her neck. The way he spoke to her about us. About me.

_You don’t need them. Especially **her**._

The front door opens, throwing me out of place. I almost jump at the sight of Mister Jones on the other side of the door. His skin looks normal and healthy, his eyes show no signs of death. But the images in my head, the ones making him look so dead, begin to implant themselves onto him. I can’t tell the dead Mister Jones from the living one.

“Morning.” the older Jones mumbles, rubbing his eyes. He glances down at the supplies in our hands. “Is that for Joaquin?” My throat sticks together, my tongue feeling weighed down like I swallowed quicksand. My heart pounds in my eardrums. I can’t get myself to calm down.

Luckily, the girl answers on behalf of us. “It was Toni’s idea! She….she brought stuff over.” Her perky little voice comes to a stop, giving Mister Jones a wide grin. She lifts up her knee to balance out the water bottle case in her hands. She struggles with it for a little bit longer, causing Mister Jones to offer to take it. She hands it over with some ease, thanking him in the process.

The girl peers in through the doorway, past Mister Jones. “Is Jughead awake?”

A light turns on inside the trailer. I guess the family is starting to wake up now. The kids probably need to get ready for school, and maybe Joaquin….

“He’s getting up right now.” Mister Jones replies. He sets the water bottle case down off to the side. He points back to the inside of the trailer with his thumb. “Did you wanna come have breakfast with us? Unless you were planning to do something with….”

The girl shakes her head. “Ali left for work already. I mean, I….” she pauses to look back over at me. Does she think I’m going to give her an answer? I shrug my shoulders, still unable to form any type of sentence. I still can’t fully look Mister Jones in the eye. Not with these images of a dead man haunting me.

Mister Jones extends his hand out. “Why don’t you? We don’t mind the company.” The panic over the girl’s face disappears. The wide grin comes back in full force. She mutters a quick _Okay_ , then she turns back to me.

“I’m going to check on Joaquin, okay?” My mouth still feels pinned together. My nerves build up. All I can manage to do is give the girl a thumb’s up. It seems to pass, the girl looks in good spirits. She rushes into the trailer, picking up conversation with whoever is inside.

The bag begins to slip off my shoulders. It’s now just me and Mister Jones, but I feel like someone else is here. Someone is watching us. Waiting to attack again. Waiting to knock me down when I think I’m safest.

Mister Jones speaks to me, “You wanna stay for breakfast too?” I blink up at him, trying my hardest to shove the images of dead him out of my head. I have to remember the life standing in front of me. The colorful aura building a shape in my head.

I clear my throat. “I don’t want to….I don’t want to hold you guys up on anything.” I don’t know why my voice has gotten so timid. I’m usually never this afraid talking to any of the Jones Family. I know Mister Jones is not a violent person – his father was, but not him. Why is this view changing? Is this because of what happened during the séance? Or is it the memories I extracted from that girl’s head? The images of Mister Jones possessed by something much worse than Louis Cooper, and Jughead, ready to kill at any command….

She must have seen those events through second sight. Or maybe she had a premonition for the future. That’s why she must be fighting to keep a closer eye on Jughead and Mister Jones. Have the spirits failed to warn me of what is yet to come? Will the Reaper go after the Jones Family for the article Jughead wrote? Will he take over Mister Jones, body and soul, as punishment? And will that mean Jughead will…..will have to….

Is Jughead going to mistake his father for the Riverdale Reaper and kill him?

The little amount of food I had from the day before threatens to come back up my throat. The voices roaming my brain tell me to get out. To run. To place whatever protection spell I can on the Joneses, on anyone affiliated with them. But no matter what spells I perform, whatever guardian spirits I conjure, the truth may still come to light, the way it may have for Alice’s niece.

Somehow, through the Reaper’s pulling of the strings, Mister Jones will die at the hands of his son.

A chill breeze graces the air. It rattles my bones. It amplifies the voices in my head. It makes me want to drop everything and run. Mister Jones notices my stance, my silence. He steps over to me, concerned. “You alright, Toni? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” My lips tremble at the older man. My heart could spew up out of my mouth. My inner voice tempts me to almost say out loud, _No, the only ghost I see here is you._

I have to make up a response, quick. I force the lump down my throat and shake my head. My breath forms a cloud in the cold weather. Despite me putting a smile on my face, completely forced, Mister Jones doesn’t buy it. He must be catching onto my panic. “You think that creep is still in me?”

He doesn’t say his name, but any thought of Louis Cooper still sends a shiver down my spine. No, it drags a knife down my back, slicing me open for the world to witness and letting my blood wet the earth. I don’t sense any roaming spirit inside of Mister Jones. I would have an alarming aura floating otherwise. But that doesn’t guarantee Mister Jones is no longer suffering from the aftermath. It wouldn’t prevent him from any outside forces wanting him to engage in the same violent tendencies. Especially towards the people he loves the most….

“No, he’s gone.” I finally speak up. I let the bag of clothes slide off my shoulder, letting the strap end up in my hand. I bring it up so Mister Jones can take ahold of it, which he does. “Just let know if you are still having any….” I end up stopping my sentence there. I don’t want to list out the symptoms, I’m worried of what ideas could fester in that brain….

Mister Jones nods. “I will. Gladys has been keeping a good eye on me. And Alice….she, she did a quick scan last night. All seems good.” He lifts the corners of his mouth, I guess to reassure me of his well-being. I do take his word for it, I know he and Gladys are genuine people. Probably the more genuine pair of Serpents I know.

But being genuine and kind cannot save you from an underlying evil.

The potentials of the future leave me on edge. Looking at Mister Jones heightens my anxiety, my helplessness. If I can’t bring back the Uktena and protect them from the Reaper, how can I protect the Joneses in the same fashion?

I begin to step away, back towards the staircase. I reach for my car keys in my pocket. I fight to preserve a positive attitude, just for a little bit longer. “I should get going. Keep me updated on Joaquin, will you?” Mister Jones doesn’t know what to say. He’s not offended, but I can tell he’s getting worried about me. He just nods his head, then he goes to grab the bags I left on the ground. He bids me a farewell and returns back into the trailer.

I hurry back over to my car. More people in the park begin to come out of their trailers, watching me as I fumble with my keys. The warmth of my car comforts me as I turn on the ignition. Tears threaten to spill out of my eyes when I pull out of the trailer park. I make myself just wait….wait until I get closer to the shop, wait until I know people are around to watch this performance, wait until I don’t have the Joneses or Alice around to ask if I am okay.

The ignition goes off. Everything is silent. Then, every little emotion I bottled up comes out at once. I slam my hand into the steering wheel and scream. I hate feeling this powerless. I put others before me so many times, only to have it backfire on me. I pour so much energy into a failing world, that I don’t have enough left to pour into myself. Into my own wants and desires. Into my own happiness.

Maybe that’s why Granddad gave up on the Utkena long ago. He probably knew that no matter how much time he invested into his crowd, they would never change for him. They would never get better for themselves. He knew the Serpents were a lost cause. And now with the Reaper hunting again in full force, it was probably better to walk away than to die abandoned on the battlefield.

What am I even doing thinking my sudden shift in focus will work? I never decided to get active until now, until after the Reaper made his grand reappearance. I only acted on my own desires after talking with Alice. Will the Uktena even survive the Reaper’s wrath? Will I survive? I don’t know, and frankly, I don’t want to know my future. I want to breathe. To know that I will be okay despite all the negative factors impacting my existence. I want to just be okay.

I let myself stay in my car for a while longer, just so I can get the worst of my breakdown out of the way. Once I’m at a calmer state, not so blubbery and hoarse from wailing, I get out of my car and make my way over to the front door of my shop.

Someone’s waiting for me by the front. I can’t quite make out the figure from this far away. I don’t want them to see me like this, I hate getting vulnerable around others. Besides, I’m no where even close to being ready for the work day. I call out to the person, “I’m sorry, you’re gonna have to come back in a little bit. Shop doesn’t open until….” I finally get closer to the potential customer waiting for me. I stop in my tracks. I blink a few times. My sadness is traded for confusion. For surprise.

“Nancy?”

“Toni,” Nancy pushes herself away from the outer walls of my shop. She strides over to me, looking both relief and perplexed at my presence. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just wanted to…. Hey, what’s wrong?”

My emotions begin to fall off my sleeve again. Just when I thought I was getting nervous about holding a conversation with my new friend, I’m now petrified to be breaking down and crying in front of her. What’s worse is that I’m afraid to actually let her in on what’s really troubling me.

I make an attempt to wipe away tears with the outsides of my thumbs. “Nothing, I’m fine.” I lie, feeling a tinge of pain in my heart. “Just been a rough few hours, that’s all.” Of course, I’m embarrassed to tell Nancy the truth. I missed her meeting to care for one of my high school friends. I may have predicted the fatal ending to Mister Jones’s life. I feel like a failure to not only my grandfather, but to the Uktena as a whole. Summarizing the laundry list of terrors in my head sends me into another fit of crying. I hate it. I bury my face into my hands and hope that this morning was all just a bad dream. That the past 16 to 20 hours have not occurred.

When I free my face from its hiding spot, I’m shocked to find Nancy closing the gap between us, wrapping me into a warming hug. I’m stunned – she’s comforting me? A stranger she just met? Another speaker for a common cause? The gesture feels so foreign, but my body eventually gives in. I cling to Nancy and just sob into her shoulder. She whispers that it’ll be okay, that I don’t have to hide anything from her if I don’t want to. The kindness of this gesture brings me some ease. For the first time since I’ve been more vocal, more willing to put my life first, I don’t have an urge to belittle myself. To apologize for speaking out or for comparing the handling of my outbursts to others. For once, that part of my brain goes silent. It’s pleasant. And it’s with a friend.

Nancy pulls away slightly so she can wipe away some of my tears. “Fangs told something came up that you had to attend to. I just wanted to check up and make sure you were alright. Plus, I didn’t know if any of my texts or phone calls were going through.” The corners of my mouth lift. All those messages I kept getting last night. They were from Nancy? Wow, I….I don’t even know what to say. I had no clue she thought so highly of me to the point where she got worried. And the fact Fangs kept her in the loop….it’s kind of relieving. And comforting for some reason. Either way….I feel recognized. I don’t feel alone anymore.

“They did,” I tell her about the messages, “I just never got around to checking them. I got so distracted with….” I end up having to pause. Honestly, I do trust Nancy, and I know she’s proven herself to be a loyal member of the Serpents. But would it still be safe to tell her about what happened to Joaquin? Would she side with the rest of the gang and not allow him sanctuary on the Southside? Fangs certainly wouldn’t. I just hope Nancy wouldn’t either.

Which is why I just go for it. “Joaquin Desantos came back into town. But not for reasons you’d expect.”

Nancy slowly nods her head. “Wasn’t he working at that nursing home outside of town? Everyone keeps talking about an older woman getting murdered out there….” My tongue ties up inside my mouth. Of course – the Sisters Massacre made local news, and probably statewide for all I care. Now everyone will think Joaquin had a hand in Rose Blossom’s death. The feeling of helplessness rises again. I manage to give Nancy a slight nod, not feeling energized to elaborate on the subject.

She sighs, “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you kept an eye on him yesterday, because that’s all everyone wanted to talk about at the meeting. You really didn’t end up missing much.” She ends her sentence with a grin. That’s odd…. Joaquin’s recent escape from death shouldn’t have been the only topic of conversation for an activist group….

My curiosity spikes. “So….how did your meeting go with McCoy?” Nancy rolls her eyes at me, and to my surprise, she laughs.

“It never happened.” My eyes widen at her. She never got to see the mayor? Was she able to reschedule? Was it permanently cancelled? I’m about to ask these questions when Nancy explains to me, “Apparently, I wasn’t the only person in Riverdale needing a morning appointment with the Mayor. Town hall was jam packed by the time I arrived, and when it finally came time for me to speak with her, she had other matters to attend to.”

“Wow.” I comment, feeling my spirits lift. I figured McCoy would be busy with her last week and all, but not that busy to delay meeting with a representative from a Southside group. Either she’s that behind on work, or….

I ask her if she knew. Nancy says, “I don’t know. Something about a bunch of cheerleaders at the high school having random seizures. She had to arrange quarantine and….” Nancy continues to go on, but my ability to listen ceases.

Girls falling down. More people dying. I’d seen it happen, the spirits showed me this would happen. And I didn’t take it for granted. Now, the Joneses might go into a civil war, and that girl living with Alice….I still don’t know how she would get tied up into all of this, but….

Wait. Something else is bound to happen. A young witch using unusually dark magic to kill, with a cat by her side. Does the cat belong to that girl? Is she the one bound to snap?

Is this really the beginning of the end for Riverdale?

“Hey, are you alright, Toni?” Nancy snaps me out of my thoughts. I didn’t realize how quiet I’d gotten, how overanalytical I’ve become of an unknown doom.

I try to pass off my strange behavior, “Yeah, I….sorry, I haven’t eaten anything yet today. Haven’t really….had anything since yesterday afternoon.” Following that, my stomach growls. I don’t remember having any food before I crashed out last night. I think I only had a small snack while at the Joneses, since I never stayed to do the food truck with Fangs. Normally on a work day, I would just wait until around noon before I’d eat anything, I’d stick to black coffee in the mornings. But after all of this running around and my anxiety flaring up again, I may need the fuel.

Nancy smirks, which….I don’t quite know how to interpret. She points back to somewhere, her truck I guess, with her thumb. “I was gonna say…..I was able to rearrange my meeting with Mayor McCoy for this morning, a little after 9:30. And I was about to head over to Pop’s for breakfast if you….”

It takes me a bit to recognize what she’s saying, but when I finally do…. OH. Is she asking me to join her? Does she want me at that meeting with Mayor McCoy? WITH HER? It’s bold, considering that she just met me yesterday! I’ve barely made a dent in my own activist work! But she sees a spark in me. She’s willing to extend that olive branch for me.

But my shop. I know it’ll practically fall apart financially if I don’t commit to this place, day in and day out. That’s practically all I warned Alice about when she covered for me. Will going with Nancy jeopardize that? I glance back up at my shop, my little family heirloom. The shelves need dusting. I probably need to readjust the A/C so I’m not freezing my ass off later on in the day. All of these tasks matter…. But does it need to be a priority now? Will I ever get another chance with Nancy and the mayor if I say no?

Nancy picks up on my contemplation, “If you need to stay….to tend to your shop, that’s alright! There’s absolutely no pressure for you to come with me. I….I figured it might be nice for you to….” Her voice trails off. She doesn’t want to push anything onto me, which I respect. But the longer I keep looking at my shop, the longer I weigh out my options….the more I realize this is an opportunity I will miss. If I’m going to become part of a death order at the hands of the Reaper, I want to start living now. I want to do more for myself now.

Besides, I think the shop could last a few hours in the morning without me.

I turn back to Nancy and smile. “You know what? That actually does sound nice.”

**XXXXXXXX**

**_End of Chapter Six_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes....Hiram's alive! And everything seems to be hunky dory so far.....
> 
> But what is to be about FP and Jughead? About Toni and the Uktena? About Sabrina and everyone else at Riverdale High?
> 
> And where the heaven is Salem/Hal?
> 
> More to follow in chapters to come!


	8. Jane Austen and the Last of the Pussycats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! Welcome back to Awakening! You know the drill, my dudes ;)

**TONI**

I didn’t expect town hall to be freezing cold. Even under my jacket and with a warm cup of coffee in my hands, I’m shivering like no one’s business. I glance past people as they come through the main lobby. They look so put-together, so professional. They have their lives together. And here I am in a jean jacket and leggings, here to pitch a fight with the Mayor. Or to collaborate on more initiatives for the Uktena and the rest of the Southside. Depends on how this meeting goes.

I’m just thrilled that Nancy invited me in the first place. She very well could have come to this place on her own, but she chose to bring me with her. Me! I have to contain my excitement so I don’t scare off the people rushing to get to work in this building. So, I decide to glance over at Nancy, pinning her elbows onto her bouncing knees.

Looking at her next to me, I feel a lightness in my heart. I don’t really know what makes me panic about her, but something about her presence soothes me. I don’t think I’ve felt this way about anyone since….ever. Yeah, I’ve had crushes on people I attended school with, but I never acted on them. I haven’t gone through anything like this. It’s new. It’s exciting. Even sharing breakfast with at Pop’s felt….

Am I jumping too quickly into this? I want to find out, to read Nancy’s mind and to see what she thinks of me. But when her head turns my head, I can’t make myself meet her gaze. So, I just wind up staring at my kneecaps. _Way to go, Toni_ , my brain rattles off. _If you can’t even make yourself talk to this girl, how the hell do you expect to become a representative for the Uktena_.

“She’s not that terrifying, by the way.” Nancy strikes up conversation between us. That causes me to take my eyes off my knees and to actually look up at her. She gestures out to the lobby, “Trust me, I’ve met with ruder, and nastier politicians and representatives. McCoy’s tame compared to them.”

I chuckle at the last part. That’s a relief to hear. I guess it does make sense - some of the people that walked passed us did give Nancy some odd looks, like they’re annoyed that she’s in here. Again. 

Which almost makes me wonder, how did Nancy become so heavily involved in fighting for better Southside representation in the first place? I know she said she planned the demonstrations following the death of that football player. But the more that I’m coming to get to know Nancy, I think her involvement goes beyond just these protests.

So, I pop the question. “How did you get started in this stuff anyway?” My tongue glues itself to the root of my mouth. I sound stupid even asking, but the question’s already out. Nancy stares at me in amazement, but in a caring way. I have to peel my tongue back down before I can follow up with, “You keep bringing up your group at the Pretty Poisons, and all your efforts. I just didn’t know what led you to….” My throat goes dry, I can’t say more. I let my lips come together and slide back further into my seat.

To my side, Nancy grins. The little gestures warms me, putting me more at ease. Then, she explains her backstory to me. “I became interested in advocacy right as I left Riverdale for college. I recognized how badly I, along with the other Serpent girls, were treated in the Serpents. It turned into a passion project for me - I figured I could get a law degree, come back to the Southside, and….be the new Snake Charmer, I guess.”

Snake Charmer…. The words leave a funny touch in my brain. I do my best to not raise my brows at her, not to be mean, but only out of concern. In the Serpents, being the Snake Charmer means you wrestle with local law enforcement to get members out of prison, reducing sentences, and making shady deals with the other gangs in town. And unfortunately, being the Snake Charmer also means you sometimes have to….do things you don’t like on behalf of the Serpents. It’s degrading work, but with how little employment opportunities arise for women like Nancy, like me….I get why she saw it as a stepping stone for advocacy work.

Nancy goes on, “But law school didn’t end up working out, so I came back home….only to have my family kick me out. When I told them what I still was interested in pursuing, they said I was making a grave mistake. I was wasting my life, throwing myself into a dangerous path.” She pauses for a few seconds, her knees bouncing more now. Her fingernails grip onto her kneecaps. She bites the inside of her cheek. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my family to death, and I always value their care for me. But I knew something had to change around here. Even if it was small things. So, when I picked up a part-time job at Pretty Poisons….. They didn’t cut me off, but we certainly didn’t speak for a long time.”

Pieces of my heart crumble and fly down into my stomach. How could Nancy’s family do that to her? What sucks most is how eerily it reminds me of….how exactly it reminds me of what happened with my uncle. And Granddad.

Before I can ask about her family, Nancy gets to the crucial details. “Yeah, so I started at Pretty Poisons, and….one day, this girl who had just joined the Serpents comes in. She didn’t know how to go about getting her tattoo, or where…..she was petrified. She didn’t have anyone to go to. She broke down crying when I started to go over the design details with her. I didn’t know what else to do, so….I calmed her down and shared my own struggles with her. I had to be the one to reassure her that she wasn’t alone, that she didn’t have to hide her struggles. I had her come back the next with a parental guardian, and we got the tattoo on her in a place she felt comfortable with.

“Next thing I know, I have more Serpent girls coming to me to get their tattoos. Even the younger guy members too. And that eventually spread over to the Ghoulies. I was hesitant at first, but….they’re actually not the bad people we made them out to be. That was kind of the moment I realized I….that I couldn’t just make advocating for better treatment of Serpent girls my own battle. This issue went beyond me. It went beyond the Serpents as a whole. That’s why I decided to form the group, to have us all come together and find common ground - what our struggles were, what we needed to get by in life.” Nancy stops there, curling her lips upward.

I’m amazed, really. I never knew this work had been occurring underneath the surface. And she did this primarily on her own? I would say it’s impressive, but it’s not right to say out loud. Women like Nancy, like me, always get expected to take the weight of the world on our shoulders, to act selfless. People don’t always seem to realize how tiring it is after a while. No one bothers to remove the weight or to see how we’re doing. Not even our own families….

The thought still comes to my brain like an itch needing to be scratched. The words leave my mouth before I can stop myself. “Are….are you still close with your family? I mean….do they know what you’ve done?” My lips become glued together again. Now I really want to run back to the Southside and retreat to my shop.

To my surprise, I notice her expression lighten a bit. “Oh, no! We’re all fine now, we’re at least on civil terms! And they know about my work. But….my relationship with them certainly hasn’t been the same since we had that talk.” I sigh in relief. I take my eyes off her and stare out to the wall in front of us. That’s at least good news. Although, it doesn’t guarantee her family will ever be healed. I wonder how Granddad would react if he met Nancy.

Out of the corner of my eye, she smirks. “And I thought they were going to send me away forever when I told them I was into girls.”

The last part lights a fire in me. My lips come apart. My eyes widen. I could grin from ear to ear. But I have to keep my new excitement to myself, just for now. 

It doesn’t last long, though. My good mood fades as Nancy frowns. “I just wish they could really see the good I’m doing. To show them that I didn’t waste my life on behaving selfishly. But, beggars can’t be choosers, can they?” She sends a mournful grin my way before she slumps back into her seat. I don’t like seeing her this defeated. Even though we just met yesterday, her sorrow wounds me.

Someone has to recognize how much Nancy has dedicated everything to her work. Someone needs to reassure her that pursuing her passions, her love for her community, isn’t selfish. In fact, she has every right to act on her own interests, to prioritize her needs over the rest. She needs to know that, the way I’ve come to realize that for myself.

I set my cup down to the ground and turn to face Nancy. “For the record,” I tell her, “I don’t think what you’re doing is a waste.” She glances over at me, half dazed, half looking for more details. I wasn’t expecting this conversation, so I force myself to breathe and think through what to say next. Then, I continue, “You’re advocating for change, Nancy. You want a better for the younger generations, so they will never endure what we did. How is that wasting your life? I can see why it’s dangerous, but a waste….No. I’m sorry, Nancy, but your parents are dead wrong. You’re not making a mistake. And you’re not acting selfish.”

For some reason, my eyes go down to her fingers. Some of the green color sitting on her nails is starting to chip away. The cuticles are beginning to peak out from underneath. A couple fingers twitch from the cold. Without much further thought, I reach for those fingers with my own. She looks down in pure shock, then she brings her eyes to meet mine.

I hear my voice get lighter, “You’re paving a way for the future. Do you understand, Nancy? You….you’re sensational.”

A misty glow appears in her eyes. Fearing that I overstepped my boundaries, I glance away. Instead, I feel the tips of her fingers squeeze onto my fingers. Her thumb dances along my pinkie. I look back over at her, just in time to catch her smile.

“You’re sensational, too, Toni Topaz. And you’re paving just as much of a future for the Uktena.” All this anxiety I built up fades to dust. Relief greets me like a warm blanket, like an old friend. My mood continues to lighten the more I see our hands still clinging together. I internally thank the spirits for getting me here in the first place.

I’m caught up in the midst of our little moment that I almost miss what Nancy says. “Speaking of the Uktena….I got a little curious last night.” My body goes cold. My grip on her hand tightens. Sweat appears on my hairline. Nancy chews on her lip before going further, “I know you said the Uktena were the original Serpents, but….but I don’t really know what else they do. Like how they came to Riverdale in the first place. I tried looking it up on the internet last night….” She goes on, but I can’t bring myself to listen. Her words fall deaf to my ears underneath my heart pounding. What is Nancy wanting to probe at? Did mentioning my Uktena roots place myself into danger? Maybe it was a mistake coming here. Maybe Granddad had every right to depart from Riverdale. What would he think of me if he saw me openly discussing the Uktena with a girl I just met? What would my uncle….

No. Screw what they think. They no longer have a say in what goes on with me and the rest of the Serpents. They left, and I’m still here. The fate of the Uktena is in MY hands. So, I think I should have a little leeway in how I brush up the town’s knowledge of my native roots. Of my family’s coven….

My heart stops beating, instead freezing up at my realization. She doesn’t know it’s a coven. She doesn’t know I’m a witch. No one I have interacted with over the years does. If I tell Nancy of this, what will SHE think of me? Will she view me as a freak? A monster? A threat to Riverdale?

A warm thumb glides across my icy fingers. “Hey….you don’t have to talk about this with me if you’re not comfortable.” I bring myself to look at Nancy again, noticing how guilty she now appears. How sensitive she thinks I am. I pretend I didn’t just experience a brief little panic attack. 

“What? No….I don’t mind discussing the Uktena with you.” I pause, contemplating how to explain the secretive nature of the coven. How would Granddad handle the situation if he were in my shoes? Then, I mentally laugh. Granddad is not me, and I am growing into my own person, not just a new version of my grandfather. “The Uktena prefer to lay low, not have an electronic history published. We prefer to spread information through word of mouth, tales that….” I reword the sentence in my head, hoping I don’t actually say, That mortals and non-witches will understand and not persecute us for. Instead, I say, “Tales anyone can relate to, and appreciate.”

“Like the tale you gave everyone yesterday.” she smiles. I do too, giving her a nod. I still can’t help but wonder why she’s asking me in the first place. Eventually, Nancy tilts her head at me. “I guess….the reason I’m asking is because I want to at least have some idea of how to….how to help pitch your cause to our team. To the Mayor.” I stare at her, silent to the bone. Should I be rejoicing at this gesture of kindness? Or revolted that she could be interfering? No….Nancy’s not that kind of person. She’s generous, she is allowing me to join in on her meeting. ME! A stranger she just met! But why? What makes me special?

I relax my face a bit, the coldness of my fingers faws out. I ask, “You think I have a shot with this? You really believe Mayor McCoy will invest in us? In me?”

Her lips curl upward. Her eyes soften. I can hear the inner voice telling me, _Yes_. Before she can say it, something else catches her attention. Without looking back at me, Nancy gives my hand one last squeeze, rising up from the bench. “Looks like we’re about to find out.”

Soon, what caught Nancy’s attention also catches mine. A pair of heels click on the marble floors, descending from the staircase. Sierra McCoy, in the flesh, approaches us, her eyes filled with determination. She addresses Nancy without noticing me at her side. “Miss Woods, we’re going to have to make this meeting quick. I still have my dance card for the day filled to the brim.”

“Fine with me, Madame Mayor.” Nancy responds with a composed yet unwavering stance. I applaud her courage, it’s inspiring. The Mayor goes to correct Nancy, I guess to say to go ahead and call her just Missus McCoy, until she meets my gaze. The determined eyes transform into ones of curiousness. Of suspicion. She raises her brow at me, about ready to taunt Nancy with, And who the hell is this?

Nancy picks up on the Mayor’s weariness of me. I only remember we’re still holding hands when she looks down at them. She looks back up at the Mayor, grinning from ear to ear. “Oh! This is Toni Topaz. She’s the newest member of my team. I thought by bringing her along, she and you could….” For whatever reason, she pauses. She glances back over at me, a smirk forming. “You know what? I think I should let her speak for herself.”

She leads me closer to the Mayor, giving me a reassuring look of _It’s okay, she won’t bite_. I end up letting go of Nancy’s hand in transit. My hands come back together when I stand in front of the older woman. I have to contain myself so I don’t rock on my heels. She’s still the Mayor - I don’t want to embarrass myself, or Nancy for that matter. Well, maybe I already have, because the first thing I do is give the Mayor an awkward wave. She doesn’t seem impressed. Okay, I need to explain my reasons for being here with Nancy, quick. I hope the spirits will come through and guide me on this one.

Well, I don’t have much time left to wait for spirits, or for any of Granddad’s advice from the grave. So, I say what comes to my mind first. “Like Nancy said, I’m new. To her team. I only joined yesterday.” The Mayor still looks unimpressed. Shit. What else could I say that will give this woman a good view of me? Is it worth mentioning…. I could pull through with Nancy. I did it at my speech yesterday. I don’t think Granddad or my uncle will come bursting through the doors of town hall to keep me quiet. Well, if I need the Mayor on my side, it’s worth the shot.

“I’m a representative for the Uktena.” I tell Sierra McCoy. “As in….I’m an ancestor of the original Serpents in Riverdale.”

The neutral, unimpressed expression fades. The Mayor now studies me in….curiosity? Bewilderment? What does this woman think of me now? I look behind my shoulder over at Nancy. She lifts her hands up along with her shoulders, indicating that she doesn’t get it either. I sigh, turning back to the Mayor. Nancy asks, “You don’t….you don’t mind if she’s sitting in on this meeting with us, do you?” The Mayor remains quiet. Nancy and I don’t hear a word come out for what feels like an hour, but it’s only been a few seconds.

Finally, the woman lifts her chin up to me. The fire in her eyes returns. “It’s probably best that Miss Topaz does.” My heart comes back to life. I look at Nancy, and she’s glowing in excitement. She races over to my side, about ready to ramble out Thank you’s to the Mayor, but the older woman does not stay to hear it. Sierra McCoy makes her way back over to the staircase, waving for us to follow her. “I don’t have much time, ladies, so you better keep up.”

I’m in a whirlwind. I feel light and airy, even when Nancy takes my hand and has us flying up the stairs. Mayor McCoy didn’t turn me away! I can join in on the meeting with Nancy! If only Granddad could see me now! I become lost in awe of the building as we make our way up to the second floor, then the third. Paintings of all shapes and sizes decorate the halls, depicting various elements of Riverdale history. A few showcase the beauties of Sweetwater River and Fox Forest. Others include portraits of the town’s founders. Normally, looking at Pickens and Blossom would make my stomach churn, but today, I hold no begrudging feelings for the men.

One artwork catches my eye in the middle of the hallway. Actually, the piece speaks out to me, similar to how the spirits do. Trapped under the painting’s spell, I pause in our route to get a better look at it. What about this piece demands my attention? I scan the piece, looking for any clues. Nothing. It makes no sense, it’s just a landscape of Pickens Park before---

My heart plummets to my feet. Now I get why this painting manifests such unusual vibes. It’s Pickens Park in that time before General Pickens and Barnabas Blossom turned my ancestors into animals in a slaughterhouse. The closer I look, the more specific details come to light. It’s the area of Pickens Park with that tree hovering above where I performed the seance with the Joneses and Alice. Where Rose Blossom and Louis Cooper buried that man and called him the Reaper. Memories seep into my conscious, polluting my sense of thinking. Louis Cooper whispers into my ear, sounding like a blood curdling scream. The whispers lead me to find one section of the painting, behind the tree. My breathing hardens. My eyes are glued, unable to look away.

A pair of ice blue colored dots, in the center of a dark colored shape, looms just inches from the tree. 

“There’s better pieces down on the other floors.” Nancy tugs at my arm, freeing me from the discovery. I make an effort to pay attention when Nancy says, “I’ll show you when we’re done with the meeting.” I do my best to follow her pace, to prepare myself for this meeting with Sierra McCoy. But before I can make myself enter the woman’s office, I look back at the painting, at the one spot by the tree. It’s as if those blue dots are like eyes, watching my every move.

I peel away from the sight, and I step inside this new space Sierra McCoy will give up soon. It’s dark in here, which I didn’t expect. Despite the open blinds, the sunlight outside is still too weak to lighten up the room. I get caught up looking around the space I almost trip over a box. Well, boxes, plural. The Mayor has half-filled boxes lying about her office. The only free space is a walkway for her to get to her desk. Sierra McCoy takes one box closest to me and transports it closer to the wall. “Ignore the mess, ladies. I’ll need to have my daughter come help me pack this stuff away later, only when she’s done with her rehearsals.” 

Daughter? I glance down at her desk, finding any evidence of a daughter on top of what isn’t covered with documents. Finally, I spy a golden frame at the edge, holding a picture of a young girl. With features almost identical to the Mayor’s.

“Have a seat. Make yourselves comfortable.” Sierra McCoy gestures for us to sit down as she comes to her side of the desk. I find two chairs in front of Nancy and me. I wait for Nancy to take her place before I can do the same. I figure I can let Nancy do the initial talking while I examine more of this office. The bookshelves have been emptied out for the most part, the contents now stored neatly in the boxes on the floor. A faint whisper creeps into my eardrums in the midst of my studying. My shoulders tense up. What does this little voice want? For me to go back to the painting and trap myself in its horrors? No….no, it wants me to keep looking at the Mayor’s bookshelves. It found something in here, something it wants me to find too. But what? As if I’m being guided by an invisible hand, my head turns to one section. One book remains on this level, its gold lettering on the binder glimmering in the little sunlight pouring into this room.

“So what I’ve gathered from your email, Miss Woods,” Sierra McCoy strikes up the conversation, pulling me away from the bookshelf. I do my best to play the role of observer between Nancy and the Mayor, waiting to make my piece when they’re done. The older woman inquires, “you want to have a speaker for your cause at the Jubilee?”

“We figured it’d be the best approach to get word out to the public. We know the demonstrations aren’t….boding well, despite our good intentions.”

“I’m not accusing you and your team of anything bad, Miss Woods. But while I still sit in this office, I have to keep the town’s best interests in mind. Including the Southside.”

“How would speaking at the Jubilee not be part of the best interests? I can craft out a good speech! One that will only focus on the good. We won’t mention anything negative about either side of town!”

“You’re going to have to convince more than just me of that.” the older woman laments. I look over at Nancy, her face falls. Does she think the Mayor is doubting her? I wouldn’t like to think so, I kind of understand where the Mayor stands on this matter. But Sierra will have to relay that view to her.

Sierra leans back in her seat, crossing her legs. She keeps her eyes on Nancy. “I know you mean well with your cause. You think I don’t listen to your speeches when clips of them come up on RIVW? On social media? I’m not deaf, Miss Woods. I know very damn well what you’re fighting for. But as Mayor, I also have to listen to what the rest of town fights for, whether I agree with what they say or not. I can’t let my own opinions guide my actions in representing this town….despite how much I want to march by your side. Frankly, between the three of us….if I wasn’t caught up dealing with my resignation, I would be out with your friends at one of your demonstrations.”

“Then why are you stepping down?” Nancy raises her voice. She leans forward, “We need more people like you, Miss McCoy. You get exactly what we say! What if the next person who takes your role won’t see us? What if….” Her voice dies out. She shuts her eyes, her lips press together in a tight line. I should do something, reach for her hand, jump into the conversation. Why am I acting so frigid here?

Sierra addresses Nancy in a calm tone, “I will make sure whoever takes my place is aware of your cause. I can’t guarantee the safety and treatment of the Southside, but I can at least have you two meet and….discuss new terms.” It’s a half promise, that much I can tell, but it does provide some reassurance. Nancy opens back up her eyes. She nods slowly at the older woman, just as Sierra turns to me.

“Perhaps you can meet with my replacement too. Assuming you’re still representing….”

I let my mouth hang a bit, unsure of how to respond. I glance back and forth between the Mayor and Nancy. What do I tell her? Also….how come she won’t finish her sentence? Whatever the reason, I need to say something back. I shift in my seat, facing the Mayor head on.

“That’s my intention, yes. I still plan to represent the Uktena in full force come your exit. Might as well start preparing now, right?” I send a quick grin in Nancy’s direction, just in time to find her grinning back at me.

Sierra McCoy keeps her gaze on me. She uncrosses her legs and slides closer to her desk, closer to me. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around this, Miss Topaz. Why _now_ have you recently joined Miss Woods on her cause? Why have I not heard anything about….the group you represent?” The whispering from the bookshelf itches at my brain again. Why won’t Sierra utter the name of my coven? This little voice wants me in here, with this woman, by these books, for a reason.

I make up a quick excuse. I tell her that I am the sole employee of my family’s shop, that I had no time or energy to focus on my advocacy efforts until the recent deaths. I tell her of the speech I made, and how it led me to meeting Nancy, to joining her group. I casually make the joke of, “It’s almost like fate wanted me to jump in. The universe works in its odd little ways.”

My response seems to work. The Mayor makes no attempt to bash me for my answer. She just leans back in her seat, pondering how to next handle the situation. While I may be in the clear, I don’t know if Nancy and her group are. I give Nancy a look of, _Hang on, let me try something_ , before returning to the Mayor.

“Look, I know I just started yesterday, but….what Nancy has planned may be what brings Riverdale together. Normally, the Southside is at war with itself due to gang activity. But I haven’t seen any internal gang wars since the protests began. Since Nancy brought her cause to light. The Southside is coming together as one to fight for a common goal - unity.” The word leaves my mouth, it’s like poisonous honey coating my tongue. Maybe because I used the last of the Serpents Laws (really, the Code of the Uktena) in context. _In unity, there is strength._ Nancy picks up on my words, studying me in wonder. Sierra remains motionless.

I finish spelling out my two cents, “This speech at the Jubilee will display that goal, hopefully. All her group wants is peace, just like everyone else right now. With all the terror and mass hysteria bubbling, we all just want peace.” I end it there, slumping back into my seat. 

Well, Granddad, I tried. I don’t know if I won over any favors for Nancy, but I said what I needed to say. I just hope I’m right in the long run. Who knows how much longer the Reaper will terrorize the town? Who knows if Alice and her team will strike him down? And if she, or I, will live to bring back peace?

My fingers are greeted with another set of fingers. I tilt my head to find Nancy wrapping her hand around my own, a small grin appearing on her face. I can’t help but smile in return.

Out of the corner of my eye, Sierra McCoy reaches for her planner to the side of her desk. She pulls it closer and flips it open to the current week. I spy the one end of her planner filled with notes and arrows pointing to JUBILEE. She removes a sheet tucked inside, opening it up. My heart races. Nancy’s grip on my hand tightens. It’s the roster for the Jubilee.

“It appears we may have spots open in the roster. A lot of acts are dropping like flies with all this hysteria in town. I could squeeze your group in for a speech.” My face lights up. Nancy looks like she is about ready to jump out of her seat to hug the Mayor. We listen as she gives us the protocol for how to proceed - we have to keep the speech at five minutes, max. Beyond that, she asks that we stay focused.

Nancy stands up, letting go of my hand to extend it out to the older woman. “Miss McCoy, how do I even begin to thank you?” 

“Just don’t get yourselves into any form of trouble until then.” Sierra accepts the handshake, beaming down at Nancy. I stand up, shaking my legs out to combat the cold. And the still strange feeling I can’t shake out from my time in this room. I wait for Nancy to make her final goodbyes before I begin to follow her out, waving goodbye to the Mayor myself. I prepare to brace myself for stopping by that painting again. The blue dots are just there as part of the aesthetics, right? Something has to explain why I want to buckle to my knees when looking at those dots, and why I fear for what is yet to come.

“Miss Topaz.” Sierra calls out to me, stopping Nancy and me in our path. The beaming look no longer exists on her face - she looks more stern when she addresses me. “Could you stay for just a minute longer?” The whispering voice returns, I want to send it away, block it out. What does the Mayor want from me? Nancy places her hand on my shoulder. “I’ll be outside, Toni.” She grins at the older woman before exiting out of the office, shutting the door behind her.

The empty space between the Mayor and me is startling. I can barely breathe, I can’t bring myself to move back over to where I just sat. Sierra smoothes out her dress before she comes over to the front of the desk. Her eyes go to the floor as she rests up against the edge, gripping on with her hands.

“Have you brought your true nature to light with Miss Woods?”

Cold air pierces my eyeballs, forcing them open. I feel the strings of my heart detach from my lungs. Did….did I just hear her correctly? A lump builds in my throat, I have to swallow it down before I make any attempt to respond. Well, I can’t get any words out of my mouth, so I just resort to shaking my head.

Sierra huffs, almost in relief. She looks back up at me. “Good. You might not want to share those details right away. Probably not with anyone else until whatever the hell is going on ends.”

My lips split open, my stomach juts in and out in pace with my heartbeat. I’m beyond shocked. I’m flabbergasted. Sierra McCoy knows what I am? What the Serpents used to be? The questions float around my head like lifeboats drifting at sea. I have to know how she could have obtained this---

That book. The voice guided me to find that book. My eyes go back over to her shelves. The gold lettering twinkles at me, waiting for me to come over to the book and flip through its contents. Sierra picks up on my distraction, I can hear her wandering over next to me. 

“I’m on your side, you know. The side of your kind. We’re in the middle of troubling times, and it’s gone on for as long as I’ve lived. Your kind’s in grave danger, not only just from what’s happening here, but what’s going on worldwide.” I see her hand lift, one finger curving out towards the book, as if she wants to tell me, _Go. See what’s inside._

My feet propel me forward, speeding to grab that book off the shelf. I rest the back on my hand, flipping open the contents. I take a moment to absorb what I see, what paragraphs and images stand out. It all makes me question the Mayor even more, but nevertheless, it makes me….in awe.

“I admit, I haven’t jumped back into my practice since taking office, but with everything occurring, I figured it’d be the smartest decision.” Sierra explains with my head still in her book. “I’ll need the time following my official resignation to study up, to relearn your laws. But I doubt I’ll have any trouble slipping back into my work. Do you find this to be a problem, Miss Topaz?” When she finishes, I look up at her. My head lightens, my lips part.

“You’re a witch lawyer.” I finally bring myself to speak. “But….but how did you come to….”

Sierra meanders over to me, gesturing over to the door. “I’ll explain more, but at a later time. You might want to rejoin your friend, Miss Topaz, before she begins to panic.” She holds out her hand, meaning that it’s time for me to give back what belongs to her. I place the book back in her hands with a sigh. The older woman grins at me. “I look forward to working more with you in the future. And I will fight to make sure whoever replaces me will do the same.”

I wait to see if she will offer her hand in agreeance, the way she did with Nancy. But I get nothing. Well, it’s understandable - she’s got an object in her hands, but it still hurts. I think she wants to know me better, and I of her. Without another word, or an awkward handshake, I leave Sierra’s office. 

I go through the recent minutes in my head. Sierra McCoy is a witch lawyer. She knows the Reaper still haunts this town. But what other dangers lie ahead for the Uktena? For the other witches in Riverdale? For Alice, her male companion, and that girl living with her?

Nancy waves to me from the end of the hall, pausing my thoughts. I wonder if I should tell Nancy everything about me. But what if Sierra is right afterall - if I share my origins with my friends, will it lead the Uktena to a deathtrap? I still have the rest of the week leading up to the Jubilee to decide. Right now, I should get back to my shop and prepare for tonight’s meeting with Nancy and her team. I make my way over to her, deciding to sit on the idea until I map it all out. Besides, I could draw some inspiration from these art pieces. 

Just as long as it doesn’t include the Pickens Park piece with those blue dots.

XXXXXXXX

**SABRINA**

Maybe I made the wrong choice to have Jughead drive us all to school. I figured since Jughead and I would leave from the trailer park together, and….and since I may have damaged the relationship between him and V….I thought it would be nice to have all of us go over together. To work things out, as a team. We might have to if Salem does massacre everyone in Riverdale as his grande finale…..or if Jughead really does wind up killing….

I need to push that dream out of my head. Mister Jones did not get possessed! He and Jughead are on good terms, at least that’s how they appeared during breakfast this morning. I know Jughead’s parents and Ali want to sit us all down to scold us for jumping into a danger zone, but the extreme tensions from yesterday have apparently died out. Mister and Mrs. Jones looked calmer. Jughead seemed in high spirits. He showed me, and Joaquin, the current stats for our article on the Blue and Gold’s website before we left the trailer park. So far, people enjoy the article. There’s been some negative commentary, but mostly from people who don’t even attend school with us. Thanks to Joaquin’s advice, we figured it could be good to keep it up on the website until the physical copy gets printed in the school paper, just in case we need to make any edits.

That’s probably also why I suggested we pick up V this morning. Maybe she could read through it on the drive over and provide any pointers. Either that or…..maybe I am just curious to see if Salem went back to Pembrooke after his escapade to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. To see if he’s starting to display his true colors. To see where he will strike next.

Would Salem know that Joaquin lived, and that he’s paying the price for my familiar’s crimes? The question sits on the back of my brain as Jughead crosses the border from the Southside of Riverdale to the Northside. I run my fingertips down the screen of my phone, just having finished texting V that we were heading towards her direction. The air coming out of the little A/C unit blows into my face, I adjust the tab so it goes somewhere else in the truck. Even after doing such a small task, I’m still freezing.

The truck pulls up to the curb outside of Pembrooke. Jughead glances up at the looming building and sighs. Has he not been inside V’s home? I know the library’s close by, and so is the coffee shop we normally visit, but maybe this is Jughead’s first time. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, then he looks over at me. “Surprised that our little feline demon’s been MIA for so long. He’s nowhere to be found around here.”

At the mentioning of Salem, I peek out the windshield into the outside world. The air feels still, even from inside the car. No bad vibes surface. It’s peaceful….is that a good thing or a sign of the bad to come? I lean back in my seat and huff. “Well, the article’s only been up for less than 12 hours. He could be milking out the time he needs for his reappearance. Going to the Sisters must have worn him out….”

I look out my window, staring at the wooded area in the distance of this town. Salem could be roaming through the woods at this very moment. Why? Does he know I hate him? That I’ve snapped V out of his manipulation? Or….or maybe there’s a reason he keeps disappearing after he kills….

A thought comes to me – What if he’s gone because he needs to recharge? Is that why he drained me before killing Midge? He needed enough energy to put on that grandiose of a kill, and it wore him out. The way he got worn out after killing Chuck. I sit up straighter in my seat, bracing myself against the dashboard. Was going to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy too far of a stretch for him? That could explain this unusually long absence! And it could explain why he left V to her own accord, why he insisted she lead the Vixens into danger, turning the whole school against us.

Salem was in the Conway House for a reason. All of that time in there alone must have weakened him, and bonding with me gives him a way to grow strong again. But…..but how did he wind up in that house? How did he know I would come looking for a familiar? Salem was in that house for a reason….

Jughead taps me on the shoulder. “You okay, Teenage Witch?” He begins to pick up on my tenseness. He glances to the world outside our little sanctuary. “What is it? Did you see him?”

I shake my head, not sure of how to phrase my recent discovery in a way Jughead will understand. “I may have a theory….about why Salem hasn’t shown his face around in a long time.”

His interest peaks. He shifts around in his seat so he’s directly facing me. “Well….go on, I’m listening.”

A big breath in later, I paint my new picture. “When you read through those demonology books, did they….did they mention anything about energy sources? Or demons needing time to recharge their craft?” 

“You think he’s hiding out to fill up his internal gas tanks?” he asks, half-jokingly. I send eye daggers over to Jughead, hoping that I’m indicating how serious my theory is. He doesn’t fight back or throw out another sarcastic joke. Instead, he begins to catch on, “Okay, I think I understand where you’re going with this. But where could he go? He would need to be somewhere close by. I mean….how long did it take Salem to come back to you after the murders?”

I lean back in my seat again, fiddling with my thumbs. I have to think long and hard on this, to recall the memories. Salem came back to me half a day after Chuck Clayton. The same followed when he intended to kill Midge the first time, which only ended with him injuring Moose. But he took a week…..no, over a week, to reappear following Midge. It’s only been a day since Rose Blossom, but going that far away means it’s up in the air on how long he will hide in the shadows. What other factors do I have to consider? Amount of witchcraft-like energy used? The details behind his presentations? Where the deaths took place….

Chuck’s house was near the forest. Pickens Park sits right on the edge. And the Conway House….

I turn to Jughead. “Do you know how much of Fox Forest surrounds the entirety of Riverdale? Like….what’s the forest to town ratio?”

He sits on the question for a while, like the thought hasn’t come to him before. The silence between us creeps onward. Then, the wheels begin to turn. His finger lifts, making a circle in the air.

“We’re practically living in the middle of the woods, with a river running through the place. No matter where you go, you always run into the woods. Meaning….”

“He’s everywhere.” I complete the sentence, a smile forming on my face.

Our breakthrough gets interrupted when something outside taps on Jughead’s window. We both practically jump 5 feet into the air, whipping our heads towards his side. Our heartbeats lower when we realize it’s V, waving to us with a smirk. Jughead rolls his eyes, cranking down the window to lean out and speak to her. “Took you long enough, Park Avenue.”

“Just let me in, _Torombolo_. I’m freezing.” she sends the quippy remark back to him. I could laugh – it’s good to see V back to normal again. It’s good she and Jughead aren’t biting each other’s heads off. Jughead unlocks the doors so V can climb into the backseat. She slides down to my end, and when she sees me, she grins and squeezes my shoulder.

I lean back a bit, whispering, “Any signs of Salem?”

“Nope. Silent to the bone in Pembrooke. Besides, Daddy or I would have woken up in the middle of the night if Salem did try to break in.” My mood dampens a little at the mentioning of Mister Lodge. I hope that whatever V did to him yesterday won’t permanently damage him. Or worse, kill him. The way that I fear will happen to….

V takes my hand, “Don’t worry, ‘Brina. My father’s recuperating quite well. Granted….we really didn’t talk much during breakfast, but….we were both so worn out from yesterday. And the coffee hadn’t hit yet.” She ends her speech on a lighter note. That at least brings back some pep for me. I’m glad V’s relationship with her father hasn’t been tarnished. I’m glad we’re all here in this car, staying somewhat mellowed out with our parental figures. I’m glad….but why do I have such a horrible dread for the future to come? Why do I feel like everything we all have done will flip on its head for the worst? What could go wrong?

Jughead starts up the truck again, pulling me out of my thoughts. For my own safety, I grab for Dad’s amulet, a safeguard I made sure to keep on me this morning. Jughead tilts his head back to V, “Surprised the school didn’t call you or your dad to demand that you quarantine after yesterday’s episode.”

V meets his gaze, and to my….well, am I really even surprised anymore? The veins on her face appear, like a shielded wall to block out any dangers. And that’s even with her pearls on. I’m surprised she even wore them today. Yet again, she gave her father quite a scare, so they must have come to a compromise. She doesn’t look comfortable now. With the pearls on, and her veins showing, she’s twisting her neck around. Like the pearls are burning her skin.

She takes a deep breath, then replies, “I would have more details on that matter, but since Tina threw me out of the Vixens’ group chat, I don’t know if I’m exempt from the quarantine or not.” She lets her hands fall into her lap, she begins to look gloomy. Guilty, even.

I look back to V as Jughead begins to pull away from Pembrooke. I wish I could reach into her mind, to hold that brain of hers in my hands, to tell it to not make her worry so much. But all there’s left for me to do is to send a protection spell, or send a hex to anyone meaning to harm her. It’s dreadful watching V tear herself apart.

She rolls her shoulders back and puts on a brave face. “All I hope is that Weatherbee doesn’t make _you_ quarantine, ‘Brina. You practically did it all of last week.” My heart falls down further beyond my stomach. I haven’t considered what Principal Weatherbee would do about my situation. I was just lucky to go back and attend classes yesterday. Now with these seizures and quarantine demands….my luck may not last. However, I don’t want to jump to any conclusions about Principal Weatherbee, or about anyone else. Making up assumptions on others have done nothing to me but place them six feet under.

Our conversation drops after that statement. Beyond that, there’s no talk of the article, or of the seizures, or V’s condition. And it’s probably for the best it didn’t get brought up into the limelight. I’m in no mood to play mediator between V and Jughead at this time of the morning. So, an awkward silence rides with us all the way to school. Jughead fumbles with the radio for a bit but he gives up after a few minutes. V runs her fingertips across the edges of her nail polish, which has started to chip. I keep my head tilted out to the window, the town’s buildings blending together with nature growing behind them. He could be hiding out inside one of these places. Or maybe he is waiting in the woods until the hysteria dies down. Is it a horrible thing that I want him to come out? That I want him to feel exposed and vulnerable, the way I feel vulnerable? The way V does? Is it me being a bad friend that I want to keep Jughead away after experiencing my dreams, and to end things with Salem myself?

Do I even want to know the truth from Ali anymore? Am I even ready to learn the truth?

We pull into the school’s parking lot, already beginning to fill up. Our classmates are either gossiping out in random spaces, or they’re racing into the building, hoping they aren’t running late for class. Jughead puts the truck into park, it makes one last puff before turning off. He turns back to V, commenting, “I….thanks for tagging along. I know I’m not a fancy limo driver from New York, or an Uber driver you have on speed dial---”

“I appreciate the gesture, Jughead.” V cuts him off, the corners of her lips curling upward. Despite the timing of her movements, I realize quickly that she is being genuine. And he’s not reacting to her in an appalling manner. Okay, that’s at least a good sign. No hostility here. I feel my own lips curling upward, weight being lifted from my shoulders.

V grabs her school bag and opens up the car door. “Let me know when you guys are ready, and we can walk in together. Better in numbers, am I right?” She leaps out of the truck, shutting the door behind her.

I look out the windshield at the flood of people in front of us. What comments will my classmates make today following yesterday’s disaster? Will they call me a monster? The bride of the devil? Will they accuse me of being a Riverdale Reaper sympathizer? Well, that’s assuming they read the online version of the article. I sigh, mentally preparing myself for the school day. The dangers yet to come.

I turn to Jughead. “So….you ready to enter the Thunderdome?” 

His eyes widen at me. His mouth gapes. “Did….did you just steal my phrase? I thought I was the quippy one in this friendship, but….I guess I’ve been dethroned.” Following that, he starts cackling. And so do I.

“Oh, calm down. I’m too much of an optimistic Energizer Bunny to suddenly become the snarky, sharp-tongued realist. That’s your job.” We start to exit the truck, quickening our pace to catch up to V.

“Don’t forget – I’m the snarky, sharp-tongued realist that loves food.” 

V scoffs. “Really? You love food? I _never_ knew that.” Jughead rolls his eyes at her, throwing me into another cackling fit. Feeling light and radiating, I link arms with V. I prompt for Jughead to link arms too in hopes he’ll join in on the fun, but he politely refuses. So, V and I end up skipping up to the front of the school, getting weird looks from our classmates which we ignore.

V has to slow us down, she’s fighting to catch her breath while giggling. “Well, here’s to a good day of school, ‘Brina.”

I follow up with, “And may we not have to be sent home to quarantine, or have to deal with haters!”

Perhaps I spoke to soon. Because the moment I finish my sentence, Principal Weatherbee appears, staring us down from the top of the stairway leading up to the main building. “Miss Mullway. Miss Lodge. I need to have a word with both of you in my office.”

XXXXXXXX

The office is certainly much cheerier than the room Mr. Hawthorne resided in back at Baxter. Yet, I still feel that same sense of utter guilt, like I’m in trouble. Probably because V and I both are. We sit down in front of Weatherbee’s desk, waiting for him to finish conversing with the secretary out front. I twiddle my thumbs nervously. I hope this won’t prompt Ali or Mister Lodge to come pick us up. Will they join us too? What about Jughead? I glance out the little window, watching for any signs of life out in the real world. So far, nothing. Maybe Weatherbee is planning on meeting with Jughead separately. I still can’t piece together what exactly we were pulled in for. The article or the seizures? What about V? I look over at my friend. Her leg is bouncing, her nails are digging into her kneecaps. Her veins have appeared full force. The skin hiding underneath her pearls turns bright red.

Weatherbee enters his office, shutting the door behind him. I know he’s staring at the wall over his chair as he strides over to the other side of the desk, but I feel as if those eyes are glued onto me. Onto V. He straightens his suit jacket before he can sit down. “Ladies, I won’t hold you up for too long.” he states, “I just need to get the facts. Straight-up. A lot has occurred within the walls of this school, and….” He pauses, huffing.

“And what?” V snaps at him. Weatherbee glances over at me, looking rather guilty. Then, he looks over at V. His fingertips drum on his desk.

“Miss Patel and your other teammates are making some pretty serious accusations about you. And Miss Mullway.”

A draft breeze blows through the office. I wrap my arms over my stomach. I’m shivering, despite the fact that I’m wearing one of my heavier coats. Maybe I’m doing this to cover up my nerves. What else has Tina said of me? Of V? Every second that passes with the three of us in silence, I can feel the strings of my heart detaching from my chest, threatening to plummet down to my stomach.

V is the one that breaks the silence. She keeps her gazes fixated on Weatherbee as she places a hand on my shoulder. “Principal Weatherbee, I think I can speak on behalf of ‘Brina and myself when I say we had nothing to do with yesterday’s events. Especially ‘Brina. I mean, she couldn’t even return to school until---”

“I understand your position, Miss Lodge.” Weatherbee cuts her off, unexpectedly. “I only ask because, as I am to understand, you have taken over leadership for the cheer team as of recently.”

“I’m a co-captain.” V explains, beginning to let go of my shoulder. She crosses her arms over herself, shrinking into the seat. “ _Was_ a co-captain. I’m not so sure about that anymore.”

Weatherbee takes a long inhale, nodding his head. “So the impromptu pep rally was more than just solely your idea, Miss Lodge?” I’ll admit - the question does come off a little bit accusatory. I personally know Weatherbee means well, but I don’t think V views him in that same lens. She glares up at him.

“What did the other girls say to you? Do you think I’m the one that made the girls have seizures? Do you think….” She stops. She grits her teeth together and winces. Her skin is becoming more irritated underneath the pearls. Those veins are waiting to take her body over. Whole.

V glances up at the ceiling and laughs. “This is about more than just the seizures, isn’t it?” She looks back down at Weatherbee. “You think we hurt Midge the night of the pep rally?”

Now my heart has become detached from its strings. Jolts of nervous energy runs through my veins. No….no, we didn’t kill her. We sent her to her executioner, yes, but we didn’t complete the act ourselves. Nor did we with Chuck. So this is Salem’s way of getting even with me. From framing me and V with the deaths while he gets to walk away.

My mind could go on to say more, but I force myself to pay attention when Weatherbee answers her question. “I’m not accusing you girls of anything, and I won’t send you to the police either. But there is a school-safety concern within the matters of these current deaths.”

“ _That_ being?”

“I don’t want to speculate on rumors, Miss Lodge, but you did have quite the heated relationship with Miss Klump. There were multiple witnesses claiming you verbally threatened her days before her eventual demise.”

Her veins flare up, making her skin more agitated. This is going to get ugly. Fast.

I place my hand over hers, speaking on behalf of both of us. “Principal Weatherbee, if I may…. V was only trying to protect me, and the rest of the team! And….and she wasn’t nearby before Midge’s death.” I have to stop rambling for a second to collect my thoughts. It pains me to admit my faults, but I got myself into this mess. I have to be the one to clean it up. I breathe in, then continue, “I was the last person to see Midge alive. Ginger was too, you could ask her when she’s well. And V and I were both with Moose on the field. We would never have led him astray like that. It’s the truth, Principal Weatherbee. I promise.”

Weatherbee leans back in his chair, absorbing the information I just provided. I really did mean what I said, for the most part. My anger towards Midge in that time period caused severe damages, but I never intended for Moose to be the target. And when the pep rally did come around, I regretted every bit of my actions. If only I had realized back then how manipulative Salem was, preying on my doubts and fears. Preying on V’s condition….

I take one more glance over at V. The veins die down a little, which I guess is a positive sign. She meets my gaze and squeezes my hand. Despite her calm appearance, the grip is a bit tight. Her hand is rattling in mine, I don’t know if from the cold, or from pure anxiousness. What else can I do for my friend to make her worries disappear? Really, all I can do is give her a look of, _Hang on, we’ll get through this_. I just hope it’s enough.

Our little moment ends when Weatherbee recaptures our attention. “Are you both aware of the article Mister Jones is writing?” We both look at him funny. How could we not? I’m the one helping Jughead with the article! And V is….well, she’s willing to give the article a critical glance! And she went into the Conway House with us, so that must count for something! I tell Weatherbee all of this (minus us going to the house, for obvious reasons). He responds back with, “I surely hope for both your sake, and for the sake of your friend, that the recent tragedies we have faced aren’t correlated with the subject of your article.”

It takes all of my energy to keep myself from blurting out, _But that’s what I’m afraid of, Principal Weatherbee. I think whatever I bonded with is replicating the moves of the Reaper. It does correlate to everything now, and maybe everything then too._

Instead, I say, “I’ll pass the word onto Jughead. The Blue and Gold appreciates your input, sir.”

The older man grimaces at me. For what it’s worth, I’ll take the warming gesture. Weatherbee stands up and straightens out his suit vest. “I believe that’s all I had for you ladies regarding that matter. However….” he pauses, losing the cheerful expression. Wait, this may not be good. Weatherbee continues, with remorse, “I might need to have you ladies return home, since you are supposed to be on quarantine schedule.”

Great. Just when I thought I could skate through the day, I get bombarded with this. I understand why the quarantine needs to happen - a good population of the Riverdale student body suffered from unexplainable seizures, and it’s wise to protect the safety of everyone else on site. But why me? I wasn’t that close to the disaster, and neither was…. I look over to V, and she’s fuming. The veins have reappeared.

“Hold on. You’re making _US_ go home?” She stands up, letting go of my hand. Weatherbee goes to explain his position, but V interjects. “Sabrina’s practically been in quarantine for the past week! She wasn’t anywhere near the Vixens when the seizures took place---”

“Miss Lodge, I’m trying to do what’s best for the student body.” he maintains a calm yet stern composure. V glances over at me, growing more furious. I’m beginning to worry here. What if V lashes out at Weatherbee the way she….the way she did to her own father? 

Weatherbee continues, “If you or Miss Mullway contracted anything similar to what your teammates did, it could be a risk. And if someone like Miss Mullway’s guardian, or your father, Miss Lodge---”

V goes stone cold. I can’t tell if she’s going to cry or scream, or do a combination of both. Her voice is dry when she asks, “What does my father have to do with any of this? I did NOT cause those seizures to happen, Principal Weatherbee. And it certainly wasn’t my father’s idea to do it either!”

He’s at a loss of words, and so am I. He goes to find what to say next, anything to reassure V that his concern is not an attack on the Lodge Family. He better do it quick, or I better….because I’m afraid of what will come if he doesn’t. I stand up and reach for V. I go to tell her to hang on, to listen to the older man in front of us. She looks at me over her shoulder, the dark material beginning to pollute her eyes. She whispers, “I can handle this, ‘Brina. Just trust me.”

“My apologies for the miscommunication, Miss Lodge.” Weatherbee starts as he makes his way back to the doorway. “Here, let me get someone at the front desk to contact your father. Surely we can get this all sorted out---”

Before I can even blink, V latches onto Weatherbee. She keeps a firm grip on his arm, she stares right into his eyes, hers all black, his ghostly white. I’m frozen, the color about to leave my face. Her veins are curling around the edges of her pearl necklace, begging to be released from their prison. The skin around the area glows an orange-red.

V growls, her voice rippling into the air, “SABRINA AND I ARE CLEAR FROM QUARANTINE PROTOCOLS. YOU WILL LEAVE OUR PARENTAL GUARDIANS OUT OF THIS MANNER. AND IF THERE IS ANY ATTEMPT FOR ANYONE TO MAKE US LEAVE, OR TO HARM US IN ANY WAY, IT WILL NOT BE TOLERATED. **_WE. ARE. NOT. LEAVING._ **”

It’s like watching Dr. Jekyll transform into Mr. Hyde, then back again. The rippling effect stops, Weatherbee’s eyes go back to normal. V lets him go and stumbles back into the desk. She brings her hands to her neckline, at where her pearls sit. I glare back at her, almost tempted to scream to high hell. But I don’t - I look to Weatherbee…. He looks more calm and composed. He tilts his neck from side to side, like he didn’t experience anything out of the ordinary.

“Well, ladies….I don’t have any other reason to hold you here. You’re both free to go.” He walks back around to his desk, the whole affair is funny. In a creepy way.

V pushes herself away from the desk, bending down to reach for her bag. She straightens back up, keeping a cold expression as she stares down our principal. “Thank you.” With that, she walks out of the office.

I barely can bid Weatherbee a proper farewell before I race out the door to catch up to V. When we make it out into the hallway, without anyone observing our interaction, V leans back against the wall. I’m about to open my mouth, to ask what the heaven that was she did back there, when I see her awkward stance. She’s pawing at her pearl necklace, now irritating the skin underneath. She’s wincing. The pearls - they’re choking her. Her condition is no longer reacting well to her pearls.

“Here. Let me.” I step in and help V unclasp the pearls from her neck. It falls into my hand. She’s able to calm back down, rubbing one side of her neck. The veins disperse and fade back into the skin. All that’s left is a faint red mark, like a blister.

I go to ask my question, only to be met with, “Don’t, ‘Brina. I know what I did.” V huffs, fighting to keep her emotions together. She’s tearing up a little. I do feel bad for her, to some extent. She lost control. She was triggered by a touchy subject. But….but was what she performed on Weatherbee permissible? I’m not so sure….

“V, what kind of spell was that?” I throw out in a hushed voice. “Is it….is it something new? Were you able to do it before?”

Her gaze goes distant. She shrugs her shoulders and crosses her arms. “I don’t know. I mean….it’s just mind manipulation when it comes to the basics. But…..but I haven’t been that….aggressive with it. If that’s what I think you’re asking.” She then looks up at me, feeling more ashamed of her actions. She nibbles on her lip, still smoothing out the newly formed bump on her neck.

What else can I do now? I already offered her Jughead’s research capabilities. I offered her my unconditional friendship. She still has her father. What if it’s not enough? What else could be down to prevent V from being overtaken by a rare condition no other witch I’ve known lives with? And if Salem got to the worst of her….

There’s a reason she is able to hear him. There’s a reason V and Salem click so well together. Salem noticed something about V that she probably didn’t know about herself. Salem saw an opportunity for V to take back power for herself.

There has to be a reason he wants her to lose herself to her condition.

I stand in front of V and take both of her hands into my own. “Look at me, V. You are strong. You’re one of the strongest people I know. Don’t allow this stupid thing to ruin your life. It does not control you.”

She rolls her eyes. “I wish that were true, ‘Brina. But….I think I get where you’re going with this.” Her face relaxes, her lips curl upward. She edges away from the wall, bringing her forehead to meet mine. “That’s why you’re my bestie. And the best.”

I crack a smile. We both wrap our arms around one another, staying in this hug for what seems like forever. V went to the gates of Hell and back yesterday, and she’s come out….well, not so the V I remember. But that girl who walked into the Conway House with me is still in her somewhere. She has to be. I refuse to lose my friend to a twisted darkness that’s unexplainable, and I won’t lose her to a twisted demonic hellcat.

We break away and start to head down the hallway, hand in hand. Groups of students rush past us, whipping out their phones. From the other end of the hallway, we notice a hoard of students huddled close towards a section of the lockers.

“Oh no.” V groans. “Don’t tell me one of the Bulldogs decided to streak down the school halls. I don’t think I can stomach it at this hour of the day.”

From what I can hear, it doesn’t sound like laughter over Bulldog madness. In fact, it doesn’t sound like anything related to a student athlete at all. The crowd grows bigger the closer we get. And the more I realize….why is everybody so close to….

Jughead breaks through the crowd, hunting for both V and me nervously. He spots us and rushes over. “There you are, Snake Plissken. I was worried ‘Brina and I lost you for good.” V snarks. He doesn’t acknowledge the comment, nor does he make eye contact with her. He’s looking straight at me, in utter fear.

He can barely speak in a complete sentence, “Sabrina….You might not want to go over there.”

A dull ache forms in my head. My heart starts to beat a hundred miles a minute. My hands shake. Why is half of the student body swarmed into one area of the hallways? And….and why does Jughead not want me to go over there?

V peers over his shoulder at the crowd behind him. “The hell is going on back there? More seizures?”

Before Jughead can attempt to answer her question, Archie appears by his side. He shares a just-as-equally fearful glance. Okay….something is definitely rotten in the halls of Riverdale High.

Archie looks down at me. He stutters on his words, “Sabrina, I….I don’t know what to tell you. But….but, I’m so sorry.”

“Archie, Jughead,” V raises her voice, “could one of you please use your brain cells to tell us what is going on?” My tongue feels glued to the root of my mouth. I almost have the nerve to add in, _And what does it have to do with me?_

The boys glance at each other, then back to the chaotic scene populating, then back at us. Archie goes to speak up, but Jughead raises his hand, quieting him. Jughead pushes his beanie back, exposing his unruly hair. He sighs.

“It’s your locker, Sabrina. Someone’s vandalized your locker.”

Dizziness. Ears ringing. Vile in my throat. Tense hands. The world goes mute.

I stumble away from these people, heading towards the war zone. I can’t hear the others calling my name behind me, telling me to wait, telling me to not go over to my locker and embrace my fate. But what other fate lies before me that’s more promising than what I’ve been given? I fight my way through the sea of people. They notice my presence, they point their cameras at me. The hallway lights begin to burn my eyes. It reeks of sweat and blood. The sweat makes sense, the blood….

The space opens. I make my way to the epicenter of the hallway’s madness, feeling out in the open. Exposed. Finally, I see why my locker is causing so much controversy this early in the morning. My heart stops. The vile in my throat begs to come up through my mouth. My eyes water. Now I know where I’m getting the smell of blood.

Copies of the article are taped onto the space that was my locker. A little voodoo-doll like figurine with yellow hair and X-out eyes hangs on a baby noose. And the blood….it paints a picture under the doll. A picture in the form of a sentence.

**_GO TO HELL, MURDERER_ **

So this is how I am to be sent back to the Dark Lord. I can’t tell whether I want to vomit or to cry. I brought this onto myself. I allowed a cat to manipulate me into providing lambs to slaughter. And now I’ve paid for it with my reputation, with my friendships, and with what I have left of my sanity. This is why the Dark Lord has such a high price on my soul and my head.

Flashes of light from the cameras behind me pollute my vision, suddenly blurring. I stumble backward, colliding into someone. Who? An arm tugs me away from the scene, but I can’t keep my eyes off this graveyard built just for me. A muffled voice says my name. Another hand grabs for me, I feel handprints everywhere. I don’t want people to touch me anymore. I don’t want people saying my name anymore. I just want to be left alone.

“Sabrina,” Jughead’s voice comes into my head loud and clear. He begs, “come on, it’s not worth it.” When I finally come to grips with reality, I look over my shoulder, not to find Jughead, but to find V at my other side. The veins spread into the whites of her eyes. Her cheeks turn scarlet red. Her knuckles go yellowish white. Behind her, Archie stands there baffled and heartbroken. The rest of the student body continues to ridicule my response to the surprise at my locker. The flashes glow brighter. The chorus of laughter echoes into my ear drums. It all blends into one voice, one menacing laugh.

**_SEE?_ **

Nausea hits me. I squeeze my eyes shut. I cover my ears. He’s here….Salem is hiding somewhere in these walls, or in the bodies of one of my classmates. But where? In who? Is it even Salem, or is it the Dark Lord playing tricks? Luring me back home with one grande finale?

**_SEE, SABRINA?_ **

I feel those ice blue eyes staring me down, from which part of the hallway I can’t tell. I open my eyes, daring my stability to outsource the creator of my turmoil. My head goes to one end of the hallway. Nothing but slow motion mockery from the student body. I go to the next….

Corpses watch my deterioration with cold grins. Seeing the discoloration and the life leaving their bodies leaves me uneasy. It makes me regret the choices I made even further. And their wounds further remind me of what I did to get to this place. And they’re still wearing the clothes Salem killed them in. Chuck in soaking wet jeans. Midge in her Vixens uniform. Rose Blossom in her robe. Her daughter with burn marks and neck wounds.

One more person stands with them. The blond boy I saw in the burning ruins of Thornhill with the Blossom girl. The face Moose described during our meeting. Is THIS Hal Cooper? Or another victim of the Reaper, or Salem? Why is my memory failing me? And to make it all worse - he’s the only one not adonishing a look of distress or anger. He looks….pleased. Like he wants to see me falter. Like he’s enjoying watching the students of Riverdale rip me apart.

In the same voice he used in that vision, the one that for whatever reminds me of Salem, he says, “You see, Sabrina? See what happens when you go against me?”

It’s no coincidence this voice sounds like Salem. It’s no coincidence why this stranger’s eyes have a haunting similarity to the ones of my familiar. This is Salem. He’s using the bodies of my ghosts to taunt me. He’s using the faces haunting me to reinstate his point.

This is Salem punishing me.

Knots form in my stomach. My body shudders. Jughead tries to pull me away from the scene, but it makes the nauseous feeling worse. I yank myself free, bolting away in the opposite direction. My feet move in light-year speed, breaking through the awing and social-media obsessed crowd. Vile builds in my throat, I don’t know if I can swallow down. My eyes water at the uneasy sensation, it’s much worse than what I felt this morning. 

At last, I’m by myself in the hallway, making a break for the nearest restroom on this floor. One hands keeps the flood gates closed at my mouth, the other pushes open the bathroom door. I can barely make it in before the last of my strength gives out. I go to the closest stall to the door, staggering….staggering….until my knees give out.

It all comes out at once. It tastes awful, and no matter what I do to keep the action minimum, it gets worse. It goes on for what feels like years. Eventually, my stomach produces no more, my throat goes scratchy and dry. My chin hangs over the rim of the toilet. My head spins, my eyes glued to the mess I made below me. The smell is foul. I wait for some strength to return, then I reach my hand up to grab hold of the handle. What I produced swirls downward, reducing in size until it disappears completely.

I lean back against the stall and sob. What have I done? How could I have been so stupid? So utterly selfish? I let my anger towards my family’s allegiances fracture our reputation. I allowed my loneliness to make me sueded by a demon cat. And my unchecked anger….my miniscule grievances caused the deaths of people I barely knew. I acted on rumors and third-hand accounts. I cost Chuck, Midge, and Rose Blossom their lives because I don’t know who I am and what I want.

My hands go to Dad’s amulet. I hang my head, bringing the amulet to my forehead. “Mom….Dad….Aunties….Ambrose….I’m so sorry.” I mutter. I try to remember what Ambrose said about working the amulet before I left home. Did he give me advice on how to work this thing? A spell to conjure to contact him and my Aunts? What did he say? Why can’t I remember?

“Let me come home.” I plead into the amulet, although I’m worried it won’t do me any justice. “I don’t want to keep running anymore. Please, just help me. Give me a sign. Anything.” The amulet feels cool against my dampening skin. A chill runs through me. Is my call working? No….no I doubt the plea reached the ears of my family. Has all form of communication with my life back in Greendale ceased to exist? Maybe that’s why Ali and I have received nothing but radio silence. I am a hopeless cause. A throwaway. A mistake.

 _No, Sabrina,_ the forgiving part of my brain tells me. The part of myself that sounds like Ali _. Don’t talk to yourself this way. You are not a mistake. You’ve made mistakes, yes….but you are on this planet for a reason. You will find your way home. You will find your purpose. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but it will come to you, one way or another._

This self-talk brings me some comfort. I still feel helpless, but it calms my nerves. It stops my blubbering. I lift my head, easing the grip on Dad’s amulet. I reek of vomit and sweat. I’m getting chilly staying here on this floor. I should get my act together. I need to get cleaned up and get back to class. I can’t let the student body of Riverdale High know they broke me…..or tried to break me. I need to prove that I am unbreakable. I can be redeemed. But I can work out my redemption arc later. Now, I need to get back up on my feet. I need to wash my face, get this vomit taste out of my mouth. I place one hand on the rim of the toilet, the other against the wall. I move up carefully, my knees cracking while straightening. My hand on the toilet leaves and falls at my side. I keep my other hand on the stall wall, just a little bit longer until I can take deep breaths. Until I can reassure myself that I will go on with my day, head held high. Until I can convince myself that everything will be okay.

I leave the stall, only to collide into another body. “Oh! I’m so sorry!” I go to help the person, to reach out to them, but I stop. The person I made contact with, she’s in the middle of a breakdown. Much worse than what I just went through. And this girl….she looks familiar, and at the same time she doesn’t. Anything that defines her as a Pussycat is nowhere to be found.

“Josie?”

“Don’t, please….don’t worry about it.” Josie shrugs off the collision, going over to one of the sinks. I can’t tell why she looks so wounded, so alone. Where are the other members of her band? The other girls? And why is she upset? Josie swipes away a tear with the edge of her fingernail. She puts on a weak attempt to grin. “I’ll be alright. I’ll get over it.”

“Josie,” I take a step towards her, “where are the other Pussycats?”

She glares down her reflection in the mirror and rolls her eyes. “Trust me. It’s not worth getting you involved. I bet you already have enough on your plate.” She places her hands down on the rim of the sink. She tilts her head over at me. “You’re that new girl on the cheer team, right? Sabrina?”

The sound my name leaving her lips throws me a bit on edge, but she doesn’t sound cruel. The gesture is completely innocent. I nod my head. She curls her lips upward. “Yeah. My problems don’t nearly sound as awful as yours.” She goes back to staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her lips quiver. Her eyes gloss over. Something’s not right.

She slams her palm down onto the ceramic of the sink, letting out a wince. “The Pussycats are gone. We broke up.” She tearfully confesses. I say nothing….I don’t know how to respond. Josie and the Pussycats are no more? What could have led to them ending the band? Before I can throw out the question, Josie blubbers, “Valerie and Melody didn’t want to stay in a town where their lives were constantly at risk. Their families no longer saw Riverdale as a place for their children to grow up in. So….it’s just me here. Just me to play at the Jubilee, no band, no backup, no….” 

Josie stops. She pushes herself away from the sink, bringing her hands up to smooth down the back of her ponytail, holding the ends at her fingertips. Her hands fall back down to the sink, resting there with a plunk. 

“You know what’s stupid?” she asks out of the blue. I stay silent, but she continues. “I spent so much of my time with the other girls. I built a name for all of us, together. All I know how to be is a member of Josie and the Pussycats. I don’t…..I don’t know how to be me. I don’t know how to be….Just Josie.” I notice a tear stream down her cheek. And I’m standing here doing nothing to help her.

I shouldn’t intrude on Josie’s personal affairs. I haven’t lived her life, I haven’t lost years worth of friendship and creativity due to a town crisis. Yes, I had a parent who acted as a leader, but he’s dead. Josie still has her parents, from what I can gather, but who knows where their fates lie in the nearby future. Josie has worked so hard to get to where she stands today. I don’t want to compare my life to hers, I shouldn’t. But in some way….I think Josie and I may have similarities, definitely in terms of following family legacies. 

I am no longer able to forge my own path with ease. But maybe I can help Josie with hers. Maybe this is the sign I was looking for.

She regains some composure, reaching for the paper towel dispenser so she can dry off her face. “Jesus, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bombard you with this information. We barely even know each other.”

“Why are you sorry?” I finally say. Josie looks over at me, shocked at my response. I follow up with, “Josie, you….you shouldn’t be sorry. You’re allowed to talk about this stuff. I know that band meant a lot to you.”

“Thanks.” she giggles, curling the paper towels in her hands. “I know, I….I can’t really talk about this with most people I know. I could with my mom….but she’s been so busy with all this resignation crap, and the Jubilee. And now I don’t have Valerie or Melody around. But….” she pauses, taking a long deep breath, “you know what they say: The show must go on.” She glances my way and gives me a heartbreaking wink.

My head reels. What can I do to help her? If she is a way for me to do some good while I’m still here in Riverdale, what will help? I get thinking….the Jubilee. She said the Pussycats were planning to perform. Her mother is hosting it as her final act as Mayor. What will bring Josie some relief on the night of the Jubilee? The Vixens may not be a good option - my allegiance to V and the Blue and Gold have soured my relations with the team. Who else? Who could be willing to act as the Pussycats 2.0? Come on, Sabrina, think!

Just as my brain runs out of options, it hits me. One face comes to mind. One person who believes Josie is the world.

ARCHIE. I HAVE TO GET TO ARCHIE!

“Hey….are you alright, new girl?” I snap awake, lifting my hands in thought.

I ask her, “Josie….you’re still part of the Jubilee, right?”

She tilts her head down at me, not sure of where I’m going with this. “That’s….kind of why I’m freaking out. Why?”

“Give me until the end of the day. I may have an idea of how to help you with your performance!” I begin to back away, heading towards the door. “Come to Pop’s tonight. Let’s say….does 8 sound good?”

“Okay, where are you going with this?”

I go back over to her, holding my hands out. “Do you trust me, Josie?” My breathing gets harder. I have no clue if Josie will take my word for my promises. I don’t know if she’ll even take me up on the offer. But what other choice do we have?

She nods. My heart lightens. I smile. “Give me until tonight. I’ll have it all together by then. Pop’s at 8?”

Josie sighs, slowing beginning to see my plan through. “Alright.”

With that, I make a run for the door, leaving Josie behind in the bathroom. The hallway appears much brighter now that my head is clear. Now that I have determination and focus. I can put the whole mess with Salem behind me! I don’t have to fret over the article! Chuck and Midge died because I failed to see them as human. I failed to help bring them towards something good. But now I can do it for Josie and Archie. I can help them! Well, I can….if I can find Archie.

Luckily, my search doesn’t take much longer. Near where my locker was vandalized, I spot a hoard of Bulldogs stripping down paper from the lockers. They’re cleaning up my locker? I...I don’t know what to say. And at the leadership of this project stands the person I’m looking for.

Archie leaves Moose and Reggie to delegate the clean up tasks when he sees me coming over. “Sabrina, you’re okay! We got worried about you. So….so we decided to---”

“Thanks, Archie.” I cut him off. “Hey, you got any plans for tonight?” He’s stunned by the question. He glances over his shoulder behind him, then back at me. I roll my eyes, “I mean, were you planning on doing more music tonight?”

“I….” he stutters on his words, “I was….no?” My shoulders relax. A light, airy feeling runs through me. I don’t think I’ve felt this confident about anything since….not since my initial plans of revenge on my classmates. But that was then. And this is now. I smile.

“Well, you better reconsider that, Archie. Because I think I just found a way for you to have that conversation with Josie.”

XXXXXXXX

**ALICE**

It feels good to be back at the diner. I missed the atmosphere, and I missed getting my hands dirty with pie-making. The moment I stepped foot into the kitchen this morning, I instantly felt at home. I felt giddy having my nails caked with flour, my apron soaked with fruit juice and whipped cream. Granted, my arms are a little weak from not carrying trays for nearly a week, but by mid-morning, I was able to jump back into a good rhythm. The waiting of tables and the pie making helped me take my mind off everything. Threats of Hal looming in the woods. Fears of Hiram getting sick, and Veronica possessed with dark magic. The fragile state of my relationship with Sabrina….

I know we need to talk. I know I have to tell her everything. I owe it to her. We as the adults owe it to all of our kids, blood or not. I hate that I’ve remained this distant with her. I promised her and her Aunts I could protect her best interests, her wellbeing. And look what it’s done for both of us. I can’t voice this concern with my fellow staff members at the diner, so I send my nervous energy into this piece of pie crust dough I knead. I give it one punch, then another. I grab some wrap from the corner of the table and place my dough ball into the center. Once it’s all wrapped up, I throw the ball into the freezer and sigh.

I just hope for the sake of this weekend we can all make it to the Jubilee without another death, without another argument. And I’m not just talking about my situation with Sabrina. I hope that FP and Gladys can forgive their son for his recklessness, and continue to be a shining light for Jellybean. I hope Hiram and Veronica can maintain their peace. I hope Toni can make headway in growing her alliances for the Uktena. We all deserve a damn break. We deserve a weekend of peace with no blood. With no anticipation of wisdom from the Spellmans. With no Hal.

The day goes on smoothly. People come in and out, pleased to see me waiting on them again. For a moment, we forget the trouble outside on the streets, the danger lurking at every corner. It’s peaceful, and it’s numbing. Too numbing, to be quite honest. It gets to the point where I am waiting for something exciting to occur. I want someone new to walk in through the doors. Have I been so used to expecting the worst that I don’t know how to sit back and enjoy life at its best?

When it comes closer to the afternoon, I hover over the bar counter as I sketch out a design for my new tattoo. I still wonder if I should have the serpent curl around my forearm or shoulder, or if it should slither down my back. Maybe I can ask Gladys for her opinion when she gets here. Once I get a basic design onto paper, I tap my pen down on the counter. Okay, maybe I should consult with a professional tattoo artist to create a better design. Who could I go to for my tattoo? Toni mentioned a place in the middle of the Southside, Pretty Poisons I think. Would it be wise? I don’t know, but I’ll keep the place in mind. Deciding to take a break from sketching, I begin to run off my thoughts. Should I take a quick break to see if Joaquin needs a hot meal back at the trailer park? Should I draft out my talk with Sabrina tonight? I know the talk needs to happen, one way or another. I could prepare….

Or, I could hold it off for the night and maybe spend the evening with Hiram in Pembrooke. It felt odd going back last night and fall asleep without him nearby. The weight of him felt comforting. His presence alone….it’s indescribable how much I crave it now. But why? What about him has changed? And what was he going to tell me before I sent us both to sleep? I should have let him speak, I think to myself as I plug in a customer’s card information. I wonder what goes through his head most of the time when I’m alone with him. Does he think of the possibilities the way I do? Is he battling inner emotions the way I am? Is he scared to….to admit how he feels about me? The way I’m debating how I feel for him?

My thoughts become interrupted when a pair of hands latches on to my shoulders. I lurch forward, almost squealing. I go to fire off a defensive spell when whoever decided to spook me brings their lips close to my ear. “Clock out, witch. I’m taking over for you.” I sigh. It’s just Gladys. I need to get a grip - first Jellybean, now Gladys? Maybe I have let too much of my guard down recently. But hey, I’d rather take the Joneses find amusement in sneaking up behind me over Hal ripping Sabrina’s soul to shreds in front of my eyes.

I turn around to face her just as she steps off to my side. “Um….I’m still scheduled for another thirty minutes. So, nice try.” I give her a smirk and rip out the receipt from the cash register.

“Too bad. You already worked over eight hours. Can’t have you taking all the tips.” Gladys is quick on her feet with her response. I roll my eyes, starting to walk away. She follows me like a lost puppy as I return the card and receipt to my last table.

“You need me to pick up JB from school?”

She shakes her head at me. “Grabbed her on the way home from the shop. Joaquin’s keeping an eye on her, but I don’t think it’d be wise to have him play babysitter all afternoon.” The last part feels like a jab to the ribs. Crap, I didn’t consider Joaquin having to look after the youngest Jones. But at the same time…. I leave the table, patiently wandering behind Gladys back to the bar counters. Bringing up Joaquin in front of the diner’s crowd is a bit risky, we’re both aware. But I think I get where Gladys may be going in trying to shoo me out of the diner. With a day to rest and lie low, Joaquin might now have a better insight as to what happened at the Sisters. He might have better luck at confirming Hal’s actions. And….it could bide me time to prepare for my conversation with Sabrina. _If_ I still want to prepare for that.

Gladys is right - I probably should go relieve Joaquin of babysitting duties. But in a few minutes. I think I still have one more table to wait down at the other end, and I’m not sure if my pie dough is done setting in the freezer. I lift a finger up to her, scooting one step at a time towards the kitchen. “Just let me….I need to….” I intentionally speak slow, hoping it will draw out the amount of time I have left. But Gladys is falling for my goofy antics. She raises a brow at me as I inch closer to the kitchen. “I’m going to finish up my pies real quick.”

She grins, maliciously. “Okay. Then, I guess you won’t mind if I go ahead and punch you out.” Before I can even process what she just said, Gladys makes a run for the other end of the diner. My mouth gapes open, so do my eyes.

“NO! GLADYS!” I sprint off after her, but I’m too late. She’s at the time clock, removing my time card from the rack off the wall. She jams it into the slot when I finally reach her. I grab for her wrist, but she yanks it away, still keeping my time card in her clutch with an evil grin. And I thought JB obtained her stinky behavior from FP.

I scowl. Gladys takes my own wrist and flips my palm to face upward. She slams my filled out time card on top. “There. You’re officially off duty. So….looks like you’ll be sitting the next few hours out, sugar.” She lifts her chin up at me and winks.

“ _I hate you._ ” I hiss at her.

“Oh, boo hoo. You’ll thank me later.” Gladys cackles, walking past me and patting my shoulder. I stay back, glancing down at my time card. A smirk forms on my own face. I got to give Gladys at least this - she knows when I need to stop overworking myself into oblivion.

With that, I grab my purse and bid the team in the kitchen farewell. I pass by Gladys, resting her knuckles under her chin as she curtsies to me. I back out through the front door, giving her the middle finger and a cackle. I shrug my coat on more over me, and I finally make my way back to my car.

The drive back to the trailer park doesn’t take long, I’m there within five minutes. The area seems dead today, more so than usual. Most of the time, kids from the high school sit around little bon fires outside, or they engage in a feisty game of poker. Sometimes, the older Serpents chat with neighbors, or they join the kids in the card game. Today, the only younger folks outside….well, the only folks right now, are Joaquin and JB. They’re perched over the fire pit outside the Joneses’ trailer, with Hot Dog at the little girl’s feet. Joaquin’s glaring into the fire without a word, and JB has her nose in a book. It’s a rather peaceful scene, I feel bad that I’m about to come over and disrupt it. But the moment I step out of the car, the scene instead comes more to life.

JB looks up from her book and grins when she sees me. She sets her book down onto her seat, and she hustles over to me. Hot Dog remains by Joaquin and the fire pit, beginning to bark up a storm, per usual.

I walk over more to the area and meet JB halfway. The little girl coils her arms around my waist, “You gonna be here the whole rest of the afternoon?”

“You bet.” I giggle, swaying the girl in my arms. I glance back over at Joaquin. Joaquin brings his eyes towards my direction. He gives me a small wave, one that I admit is rather gloomy. I wave back, perking my lips upward. “I take it you’re relieved I’m taking this one off your hands?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. He stands up and says, “It just feels good to be outside. I haven’t had to freak out over getting medications lined up, or wheeling anyone to group exercises. I needed the break, frankly.” He reaches his arms up to the sky to stretch out. Hot Dog woofs at the movement, followed with another series of excited barks. Joaquin glances down at the dog, snapping his fingers. “Hey…. _cállate_ , dipshit. You’re gonna give the whole damn trailer park a migraine with that.” He looks over at JB and me and rolls his eyes. We both giggle from the exchange. Hot Dog continues to act fussy, a playful little behavior with me around….

Suddenly, my eyes wander over to my own trailer. Does Hot Dog believe that cat still resides there? Is that what’s causing the anxious behavior? I have to wonder…. I fish for my trailer keys out of my coat pocket, and I hand them down to JB. “Go ahead and bring your school stuff to my trailer. I’ll be up there in a moment.”

“Okay.” The young Jones takes the keys and runs back over to the fire pit area. Once she has everything she needs, she runs over to my residence. I wait until she’s up the stairs before I go over to Joaquin and Hot Dog.

I kneel down, taking the dog’s face into my hands, smoothing out his fur. “Hey….hey, look at me buddy. Salem’s not around.” I speak to Hot Dog in a soothing voice. I run my fingers along the under area of his ears. “He’s not here anymore. You don’t have to worry about him. It’s okay.” The coaxing notion seems to work. In a few moments, Hot Dog is able to calm down. He doesn’t teeter around on his paws as much. He whimpers softly, looking at me. Then, he goes to lick my face. I giggle, muttering, “That’s a good boy.” I bring my gaze back up to Joaquin. His eyebrow is up to the sky. I clarify, “Sabrina had a cat. She….she called him Salem.”

“That makes more sense now, okay.” he grins, nodding his head. I stand back up, brushing the snow off of my knee caps. Hot Dog whimpers. Joaquin grabs for his collar, “Here, I can take him out for a walk while you’re with Jellybean.”

A breeze runs between us. I cross my arms over my stomach, “Oh….Joaquin, are you sure?”

“I think we could both use a walk.” he shrugs. He bends down to scratch Hot Dog’s head. It goes on for a little bit before Joaquin says, “Besides, it’ll help to clear my head. Keep me distracted….”

He stops talking, cramming his lips shut. His eyes still hold that haunted glow from yesterday. He brings his attention to smoothing out Hot Dog’s fur. I’m still caught up in what is running through that young man’s head. What did he see from the massacre? Would it even be proper of me to badger Joaquin with questions this early on? I know he did yesterday, the whole trailer park stopped by the Joneses’ trailer for a glimpse of this survivor. I pity him. He doesn’t deserve to be thrown into a cage like a zoo animal for the press, or for the police, to probe at. He also doesn’t deserve to get turned into Hal’s next meal.

Joaquin returns back to a standing position, shoving his hands into the pockets of his Serpent jacket. I use this as an opportunity to ask, “How are you holding up?”

“Physically, or mentally?” he makes his response come off as a joke. I give him credit for staying light-hearted, but I don’t fall for the act. He sighs, “I’m breathing, so….that’s a start. But I slept terrible last night. I really didn’t want to relive my last day at the Sisters in my dreams.” I have to keep my mouth shut before I let this thought crawl out of my mouth - _And I bet you didn’t want to recall any features of the demon who killed your patient._

Will Joaquin go on trial for Rose’s death? Will people believe that he orchestrated the massacre as a middle finger act to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy? I doubt it, but people have grown so hysterical nowadays. It’s unpredictable how people will react to the incident. It makes me wonder….how will he live? Where will Joaquin go if the Serpents won’t welcome him back home? Or if FP and Gladys, or even Toni, cannot argue on his behalf for sanctuary? Surely, there has to be something I can do to help. Even if it’s just helping the poor man lie low for a little while….

That’s when my eyes wander back over to my trailer. And my head starts spewing out ideas. Hey, if I have to bring Sabrina back for her trial, or if for whatever reason, I cannot return to end Hal’s reign….maybe….

“Joaquin,” I start, turning back to him, “have you….have you figured out where you’ll be staying until you can….” I can’t finish the sentence, mostly because I would rather not jump to any conclusions.

He furrows his face, bringing his shoulders up to his ears. “I’m literally just couch-surfing with the Joneses for now. And….I know Toni brought up the idea of letting me and Ricky crash with her until I can….get my name cleared. Or whatever.” His shoulders come back down. A puff of air leaves his mouth, manifesting into the air.

I point back at my trailer. “Why don’t you take my place?” Joaquin loses the hopeless look. He raises his brow again, and Hot Dog whimpers in equal confusion. I clarify with him, “I’ll have to bring Sabrina home soon, and….and I don’t know if I’ll have the chance to come back here. So….you and your little brother can live here. You wouldn’t have to worry about rent or utilities, I can cover that for you---”

“Alice, you really don’t have to do that for me.” he lifts a hand up to the air. His spirits seem to be lifting, which I can’t tell if it equates to anything good.

I sigh. “Where else would you go? A motel outside of town? Out of Riverdale?”

“I have friends outside of town, in San Junipero.” he states in a joking tone. I cross my arms tighter, signaling that I mean what I say. He finally catches on, “You mean it? You’d really let me stay here?”

My brain goes on autopilot mode. What do I tell Joaquin? That I’d rather him keep an eye on FP and Gladys and their kids if I no longer can? That I’d rather he be with friends than die at the hands of my demon ex-boyfriend? I glance down at the ground for a brief moment, mentally putting together how to go about detailing the thoughts in my head to Joaquin. I don’t want to come off as a white savior, that’s not my intention. I don’t want to appear that way to Toni either. But I want these younger Serpents to know that I’m on their side. I want the same end goals they do, just by a different means.

I look back up at Joaquin, letting my arms fall to my sides. “If I could, I’d bring you with me and Sabrina. I’d take everyone here with me.” I stop, inhaling and exhaling. Daisies and candles. I can’t make this about me. I continue, “But I know you have family here. You have friends here. It wouldn’t be right of me to separate you from that.”

Joaquin scoffs. “Don’t know if I’ve got that many friends left here, apart from Tee.” He runs his fingers along the top of Hot Dog’s head, almost identical to how FP did yesterday morning. The little movement stirs discomfort in my stomach. Then, I see him grin. “But I think it’d be smart for me to stick around the Southside. I got a little brother to look after. And….and Toni got talking with me about her activist group yesterday. I wanna be around to see her hit the ground running with that.” The corners of my own mouth lift. It’s comforting to recognize that while my future is uncertain, I can see Toni obtaining hers.

“And, not to get controversial here, but….” Joaquin adds on, “I kinda want to see what Jughead’s gonna do following that article he and Sabrina wrote.” The good mood I experience disappears. Okay, I have no right to take it out on Joaquin for bringing up the Reaper article. I know it’s a matter that I, and the other adults, need to discuss with the kids. But the mention of it still feels like a knife plunged into my kidneys. Or like Hal burned off my tattoo all over again.

Thinking about my tattoo sends a jolt of pain down to my hip area. I wince, leaning on my good leg to bring relief to my bad one. I bring my hand down to the area over my Pop’s uniform. I mentally remind myself to hold on for a little bit longer. _Don’t break down and perform Blue just yet_.

“Did you know Rose Blossom?” Joaquin asks suddenly, throwing me off guard. I stand back up straight, feeling my bad leg grow sore. I grit my teeth and force the air out of my lungs. Just breathe through it, Alice. Returning my attention to Joaquin, I think on the question. Did I ever have a one on one conversation with the woman? Or did I only really know her through Riverdale’s folklore? A passing image of red hair and a shrill voice enters my brain. So does the image of a figure taking a bite out of the redhead’s neck.

“I didn’t. No.” I answer. “But I was acquainted with Rose’s daughter. As well as said daughter’s league of evil cheerleading minions.” The last part produces a chuckle out of Joaquin. I proceed to slide my hands into my coat pockets, seeking warmth from the cold. “Her daughter wouldn’t shut up about Rose’s witch hunting days. Everyone I went to high school with could either quote her tales by heart, or they wished to purge them from their memories. I was part of the latter group.” My good spirits return, I find myself giggling at my own tale along with Joaquin. 

“So….yeah, I didn’t really have a high opinion of the Blossoms.” I pause for a second, my head still clinging to that image of Hal feasting on Penelope’s corpse. I wonder if Penelope ever did feel guilty for her treatment of the student body before her death. I wonder if I could have made amends with her at all. “I _used_ to not have a high opinion of them. Now….I’m not so sure.”

“I’ll admit, Rose was a bit of a tyrant living in that hospital.” Joaquin tells me with a grin. “But she knew she wanted to live her life to the fullest, all the way to the end. She wanted people to see her as someone good, even if they didn’t like her before. She made an effort to learn from her mistakes.”

“People change over time, I guess.”

“Yeah. Our perceptions of people change too. Just depends on how long it takes.” I find myself nodding at Joaquin’s last sentence. I can see where he’s right. My own perceptions of the people I knew here in Riverdale have changed, from Hiram to Tom Keller, even to Penelope beyond the grave. And what of how others perceive me? I suspect FP views me differently now that he’s aware of my witchcraft. And Sabrina….

Does Sabrina view me differently now too? Will this fight over the article….over Hal….will it change everything about us?

Hot Dog gets antsy again, throwing us both out of our thoughts. He backs up on his hind legs and whimpers. Joaquin scowls, “Alright, alright. I’ll walk you around. Jeez.” He looks over at me and rolls his eyes. I giggle.

Perhaps it’s a good thing Hot Dog is demanding a walk. I shouldn’t leave JB alone for much longer. I don’t want her to believe I abandoned her. I begin to back away from Joaquin, heading towards my trailer. “I’ll be in here if you need anything.” Joaquin waves goodbye, going back to the Joneses’ trailer I’m guessing to grab a leash for Hot Dog. I keep my eyes on my trail, watching my feet scurry up the stairs, going to my front door.

I’m greeted with the lukewarm atmosphere of my trailer. I glance around the place until I spot JB curled up on my couch, still reading her book. I peel off my coat and place it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “No homework today?”

She keeps her eyes glued in her book as she speaks to me. “I do, but I got most of it done at school. I worked on more with Joaquin before you came back from Pop’s. I’m just trying to get ahead on some reading.”

I make my way over to the living room area. “For your book report? Or is this free reading?”

The little girl shakes her head. “Book report. It’s one of the books that wizard gave to me.” I catch myself giggling at JB’s nickname for Hiram. I can’t see which book she has from this far away, so I inch closer for a better look. Picking up on my movements, JB stretches her arms out, holding out the cover to me. I let my jaw go to the floor once I read the title.

“Wow. _Pride and Prejudice_?”

“It was the only one that sounded interesting. Most of the ones he gave me sounded too babyish. The others I read before.” I tilt my head at her in amazement. When I ask which ones sounded “too babyish”, she says _Gulliver’s Travels_ and _The Island of Dr. Moreau_. I can see why she chose the Jane Austen book - her reading level seems to be more advanced, just like her brother.

I take my place next to JB on the couch. I rest my elbow on the top cushion and rotate around to face her. “Which part of the book are you at?”

“Lizzie has to go grab her older sister when she falls sick at her boyfriend’s place. I’m honestly just waiting for this Darcy guy to admit his feelings for Lizzie. It was blatantly obvious in that first party scene that he wanted to ask her out.” I snort laughing. I have to say, it’s hysterical listening to JB recap a literary classic. She gets to the point, and she picks up on key details that do not come into light until the end. So, it’s astonishing she could recognize the Darcy and Elizabeth romance from this early on.

JB tethers at one page corner with her finger. “Although, I don’t get why there’s all these markings on the sides, and so many highlighted passages. Also, who’s Jaime Luna?” I chuckle hearing Hiram’s Baptism name slip from the girl’s lips. I’ll leave it to him to tell JB of his rebellious period the next time he comes over to the trailer park. For now, I glance down at the copy to see these notes she’s referring to. She’s right - Hiram’s got this book marked up with his own notes in the margins. 

Something about this book brings a sense of familiarity. Looking at his handwriting and the colorful passages reintroduces images in my head, memories of pouring through schoolwork. But why? The longer I stare down at this copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ , the more I understand why this book is singing to me.

We read this in AP Literature. Hiram was in my class when we covered _Pride and Prejudice_. 

My train of thought gets interrupted when JB curls up next to me, letting out a big yawn. I stare down at the girl. “Did you forget to have your cup of coffee this morning?” I tease her.

She swats one hand out in front of her. “I had, like, two. But I think the weather’s making me sleepy. Would you mind if I….” She can’t complete her sentence due to another yawn. Normally, I’d want to make sure she completed ALL of her homework before she took a break. But I’m not her mother. Also….I want to check the contents of Hiram’s copy. If this is the version of _Pride and Prejudice_ I believe it is….

“Fine with me, hon.” I shrug my shoulders and grin. JB sends a Cheshire Cat-like smile up my way, then she plops her head onto my shoulder, curling into me more. The girl is out within a minute.

Being careful to not cause JB to lose her place, I scan through the book. Surely enough, Hiram’s got this book marked up with his annotations from class. Well, most of the annotations are academic, the rest are more….exploratory. More personal. Drawing connections between characters and the people in our school. Events that happened during our high school years. Connections to….me.

My name pops up next to bits of dialogue between Lizzie and Darcy, either with a comment about my own words and movements, or just my name. Was Hiram always watching me? Certainly….I mean, we read this book in between everything that happened with Hal, right after I scared Hiram and revealed my witchcraft. It was before I bonded with Hermione, then lost her. I always believed Hiram was too shy to talk to me. I believed he hated me. Waiting to stick it back in my face the moment I would show back up into town. But from how I’ve interacted with him in these past few weeks, and looking at all these notes….was _I_ wrong?

 _Our perceptions of people change….just depends on how long it takes._

Joaquin said that to me. I interpreted his words to reflect on my relationship with Sabrina, and with the Blossoms. Shouldn’t I also put it towards Hiram? Haven’t my perceptions of him changed, along with our growing intimacy? I wonder….

I find myself flipping farther into the book, landing on one particular section, one crucial plot point that changed everything between Lizzie and Darcy. His initial declaration of love for her. And surely enough, Hiram has this page marked up with class notes and personal antidotes, primarily on me. But why? Why these passages in particular? I could laugh, but I don’t want to wake up JB. So, I chastise myself mentally. **_Why wouldn’t he, Alice? You two did read this scene in class together, after all._ **

_I wasn’t anticipating on getting pulled up to the class to read Lizzie’s reactions to Darcy. Hiram’s Darcy, to be exact. But, our AP Literature teacher, Mister Featherhead, had an odd way of making his students participate. He figured by having us read out scenes in class, it could help us better analyze the works. Therefore, we’d all perform better on the AP exam. Surely it mattered to Featherhead more than anyone at that school. Too bad I didn’t stick around to learn how I would perform._

_On the day we covered Darcy’s love declaration for Lizzie, I kept my head low and purposefully sat in my seat hoping not to get singled out. I had just started distancing myself from Hal after the tattoo burning incident. And as lonely as I felt, I didn’t want to find myself cozying up to FP. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship by insinuating any form of romantic or sexual relationship, and frankly….I didn’t want FP to become Hal’s newest victim. So, I kept a low profile and focused primarily on my schoolwork. I figured I could take my academics seriously so I could propel myself as far away from Riverdale as possible. I would eventually….just not by academic help._

_Class that day felt roudier than usual. We were all on pins and needles just waiting to have Thanksgiving Break come already. We weren’t going to fully pay attention to our professors, despite the amount of testing needed for APs, and the focus needed on college applications. But Featherhead was one determined man who knew how to demand a room full of hormonal, raging teenagers._

_“Alright, settle down.” he commanded the class, “We have a lot to get through today, so let’s get to it. We’ll start by covering the declaration scene.” The guys in our class grumbled, the girls swooned. Penelope was in the class, so of course she would find pleasure in this scene. As would Hermione, Sierra, Mary, and any other girl. Me, not so much._

_Featherhead gave us a quick synopsis of the scene, breaking down some of the key components and their meanings. Then, he got into the element he was known for. “Can I have some volunteers to read out the dialogue between Elizabeth and Mister Darcy?”_

_A few of us, like me, stayed quiet. The rest of the class broke out into hushed whispers. But nevertheless, we were all curious to see who would reenact the lovers of this tale. Eventually, one person stood up, raising his hand._

_“I’ll read for Darcy, I guess.” Hiram announced. The few Bulldogs in our class groaned. The girls giggled, especially Penelope. I rolled my eyes, and from the corner of my rolled eyes, so did Hermione. That brought some comfort to me, but I would never admit that out loud._

_Featherhead welcomed him up, “Thank you, Mister Lodge.” He waited for Hiram to come up to the front of the class before he proceeded. “Now, ladies, which one of you would like to read for Elizabeth?” A handful of girls raised their hands proudly. Penelope even rose out of her seat. Featherhead tisked, “How about someone we HAVEN’T heard from yet?” A few of the girls lowered their hands. Surely, I thought he would pick Mary - she only spoke up a few times, but she mostly kept to herself. Maybe he would pick Sierra - she could embrace Lizzie’s fiery personality. Plus, I would have found it quite amusing to witness Sierra bash down Hiram._

_But Featherhead didn’t have his sights on Mary, or Sierra._

_“How about you, Miss Smith?” he turned directly to me. I could feel the whole class turn directly to me. Angry whispers, giggles, and banging on desks filled the room. I wanted to hex the whole class, or send each of them home with snakes and spiders in their clothes. More than anything, I wanted to curl up into my Serpent jacket and hide. But then I remembered I stopped wearing that jacket. I hadn’t in a while._

_I made direct eye contact with Hiram. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, I swear his tan skin began to turn white. Borderline green. He was just as nervous as I was. But there was no way either one of us could get out of this one. And frankly, I was better off facing the humiliation of a Featherhead class than the idea of crawling back into Hal’s arms._

_With an elongated sigh, I slid out of my desk and grabbed my book. “Let’s get this over with.” I spat out, earning me fits of laughter from the guys in class. I sent a cold stare to Penelope as I passed by her desk, pretending I sent a blood churning hex in her direction. It gave me a little bit of a confident boost as I joined Hiram at the front of the classroom._

_“Now, do you two know where to start?” Featherhead guided us to where he wanted us to begin reading. Hiram confirmed his place, moving to another side of the chalkboard. I looked back at Featherhead, giving him an unenthusiastic thumbs-up. “Alright, Mister Lodge, we’ll begin with you on Mister Darcy’s entrance. Whenever you’re ready.”_

_So, Hiram began. He acted out Darcy coming into Lizzie’s corridors on her trip to see Charlotte, he almost nailed it dead on. I had no issue slipping into Lizzie’s mind as I read out her dialogue. In a way, I could relate to Lizzie - black sheep of a family, expectations for love and womanhood left and right. Really, the only difference between Lizzie and I was that Lizzie didn’t have a familiar that liked to kill her peers and gaslight her. I mean, you could compare George Wickham to Hal. They both twisted lies to get the women they wanted. Thinking about Hal and Wickham together made my stomach create knots. I shoved the thought out of my head as I allowed Lizzie’s words to leave my mouth._

_Soon enough, we came to the dialogue where Darcy pronounces his love for Lizzie. Hiram took two deep breaths in between the words. His hands shook, making the book shake as a result. Then, with a broken voice, he began. “_ **_In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must…._ ** _” he paused, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He struggled to keep going, “You must….you….”_

 _“_ **_You must allow me to tell you how_ ** _\---”_

_“I know what it says, Mister Featherhead.” Hiram snapped at our teacher. The class broke out into oohs and ahhs, cackling in pure delight. Featherhead barked for the class to quiet down, then he allowed Hiram to continue. But Hiram still needed more time. Sweat appeared across his forehead. His teeth chattered in the cold classroom. He looked straight into my eyes, and in that moment, something about him appeared different. It was the first time I didn’t see the arrogant, self-reserved prick from Manhattan. He came off as timid. Walking on eggshells before me. He adapted his appearance the night Hal and I scared him. Only this time, he looked love struck._

_In Darcy’s words, he said, “_ **_You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you._ ** _”_

_At first, I wanted to smack some sense back into him. What happened to the Hiram Lodge I knew? I didn’t understand what led him to take on Darcy’s words so much intensity, like he related to Darcy and his situation. But I didn’t want to break down Hiram’s acting skills and analyze them for meaning. I wanted to get this scene over and done with. So, I went on with Lizzie’s dialogue, and Hiram with Darcy’s. The more we read on, the more that little voice in the back of my head begged me to stop. The voice wanted me to examine Hiram carefully. To look for meaning in those soft, timid eyes, those quivering lips. Either he was that good of a performer, or he really was growing scared of me. He should have been scared of me! I was Acid Queen Alice - the witch bitch who left him running with his tail between his legs. But what could he have said to our classmates about me? Did he make them believe they were Ichabod Crane, and I the Headless Horseman? Penelope would get a delight out of that, for sure. The thought felt like poison to my brain. Fire to my lungs. The more I thought about why Hiram looked so apologetic, the more I didn’t want to know._

_In that moment, I hated him. I wanted him gone. I wished I had taken Hal’s advice and killed him when I had my chance._

_In Hiram’s fashion, I took Lizzie’s final words personally, as if they were my own. “_ **_From the very beginning— from the first moment, I may almost say— of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit,…._ ** _” My tongue turned into a dagger. My feet marched forward, step by step, forcing Hiram to stumble backwards towards the chalkboard. I glared up at him with fire in my eyes. My voice grew, “_ **_....and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork of disapprobation on which succeeding events have built so immovable a dislike…._ ** _” His back ended up against the chalkboard. His heart pounded out of his chest. By that point, my rage was beyond controllable. I had enough of his presence, his potential need to apologize to me. I hated him the way Lizzie abhorred Darcy._

 _As if I was screaming, I jabbed the last of her words into Hiram, “...._ **_and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry._ ** _”_

_There was a stillness in the classroom. Not one person made a comment, or a whisper. No one even coughed. My ears rang. Tears stung my eyes. Recognizing what I’ve gotten myself into, I backed away, allowing Hiram some space. My eyes fell to the floor, staring down at my Doc Martens._

_Featherhead addressed us, “That’ll be all, Miss Smith. We’ll leave it there.” I turned to Featherhead in pure anger. Noise finally emerged from the class. Well, one person in particular. Penelope held a hand over her mouth to contain her laughter. Hermione looked about ready to smack her in the arm, or in the face. The rest of the class watched me like children approaching a zoo animal in its cage. They wanted to know my next move. How would Acid Queen Alice use her claws and slash up Hiram? Who would she and that creep of a boyfriend of hers go after next?_

_Poison coated my tongue. It glued my mouth shut. It made my eyes water. I wouldn’t dare to break down in front of my classmates, but I certainly wouldn’t give them the show they wanted either. Instead, I bolted out of the classroom, shoving Hiram aside on my way out._

_I couldn’t make it to the girls’ bathroom in time before sobs left my throat. I tossed my copy of_ Pride and Prejudice _at the little window above and marched into a nearby stall. Tears ran down my cheeks, my palms went to my eye sockets. I collapsed onto the toilet lid, resting my elbows on my knees. My sobs echoed along the bathroom walls. Why did I do this to myself? Why couldn’t I have dropped out or run away when I had every chance? Why did I listen to Hal? I felt so confused. I wanted to figure it out on my own, alone….but I didn’t want to be lonely._

_I slammed a fist against the bathroom stall. “GODDAMNIT!” The sobbing worsened. I fell into a fetal position, slipping off to land between the bathroom stall and the toilet. Loneliness overcame me. Depression, fear, and anger were my new best friends. Guilt was my true love._

_I must have stayed down there for some time, because when I came back to some form of consciousness, the school bell rang. Great, I missed the rest of class. Not that I cared anyway. I lifted my head, swiping away at my wet cheeks with the sleeve of my flannel. More girls would come in soon, and I didn’t feel like scaring away anyone. But I couldn’t make myself get up from the floor. My thigh still ached me from when Hal touched it. I hated to admit that I needed help._

_That was when the bathroom door opened, accompanied with a voice. “Alice? Are you in here?” My eyes wandered out of the bathroom stall to seek out the face belonging to the voice. Hermione? I went to go move up and out, but all it did was bring me pain. I groaned, bringing my hand to my thigh. Hermione found me eventually. She rushed over, “Here, let me help you.” I wanted to swat her away, to tell her to leave me alone. But she already had her hands under my armpits, lifting me out of my space. With her guidance, I hobbled out of the bathroom stall. I muttered a thank you, and it felt like vile. Hermione noticed my state, growing concerned. “What happened to your leg?”_

_“Don’t worry about it.” I shrugged it off, hobbling closer to the sink. “What do you want, Gomez?”_

_I bit off a little bit harder than I should have at her. Looking back at it, I should have apologized, but I was in every right to be pissed off at the planet. Hermione gestured down to the floor with a smirk. Then, I brought my sights down to what she brought into the bathroom with her._

_“You left your bookbag in class. I….I wanted to make sure you didn’t lose it.” My mouth formed an_ O _shape. I should have apologized then. But I was also beginning to grow suspicious. What was Hermione Gomez doing being so nice to me all the sudden? What did she want?_

_She crossed her arms over her ribs. Her shoulders went up to her ears. A grin appeared on her face. “Also….I thought you did a nice job reading that scene with Hiram. You really brought Lizzie to life back there. You think you could give me some pointers on….”_

_I faced her, confusion growing in my own expression. “On what?”_

_“I’m gonna be in the school musical,_ Pippin _. As Catherine. It’s the first time I’ve been in a major role since I started doing these things. Normally, I would consult Penelope or anyone else on the cheer team, but….” Her voice trailed off. At the time, I didn’t get why Hermione wouldn’t go to Penelope, or Fred. But that was before I realized her relationship with Fred was over, and that she and Penelope were at war with one another._

_I didn’t know what to make of her offer. Why did she want me to help her out with the musical? I was never a theater kid. I could sing, but I only ever sang along to Fleetwood Mac songs or screamed my head off to Nirvana. I had no expertise on anything Broadway related! But from how Hermione was talking with me, and how….nervous she appeared, some gut feeling told me she just needed escape. She needed to be around new people._

_And I needed time away from Hal._

_“Alright, Gomez. How much time do you need to get ready for this stupid thing?”_

_From that point up until the crash, Hermione and I spent most of our free time preparing for her role in the musical. She came to find her independence outside of Fred and the other Vixens. I still remained tight with FP, and I felt more of my witchcraft coming together. That didn’t stop Hal from glaring at me from ends of the hallway or the trailer park, but it did provide me with some distance. For once, I felt free of Hal. I didn’t have to worry about him. I didn’t have to worry about Darryl Doiley and the other dead kids, And most of all, I didn’t have to worry about Hiram, or anything related to_ Pride and Prejudice _…._

Not until now. Looking down at this book, I realize how much I misjudged Hiram back then. How much I misjudged everyone I knew due to my circumstances. But maybe I needed that time to come and understand that. Maybe coming back to Riverdale has been beneficial for me. 

Granted, I still have more to uncover about my relationship with Hiram. I still can’t quite piece together why he feels so devoted to me. I almost killed him. I keep whining and crying to him at my weakest points when I can’t get it out to Sabrina. And yet he’s still there. And perhaps he always was. I just didn’t pick up on it then.

I take one last glance down at the book, my eyes going to Darcy’s infamous words. I wonder how Hiram really felt that day when I lashed out at him acting as Lizzie. My thumb goes to the bit of dialogue, tracing out the letters inked by Hiram’s hand. Off to the side, there’s a small letter I can’t make out. I glare at it. Is it a letter at all? I don’t know, but I can make out my name under it. And the way this copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ is printed, it almost makes Hiram’s notes appear like the words are directed to me.

**_You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you, Alice._ **

I shut the book and set it down on the coffee table. I shiver at a breeze running through the trailer. I wonder how JB isn’t freezing laying here on this couch. I should get her a blanket, and maybe I need a sweater. Being careful not to wake her up, I rest JB’s head against a nearby pillow, planting a kiss onto her temple. Then, after wrapping my arms around myself, I head into the bedroom.

My mind wanders while in transit. How is Joseph Conway not freezing in his bunker out in the woods? Should I go and see him? Looking out the window over the kitchen table, I notice how quickly the sun is beginning to set. Surely, he could use the company. But we ended our conversation on quite the odd note. How can he protect himself from Hal out in this weather? How could anyone? I get thinking about Joaquin and his little brother, Ricky. I think about Toni and the Uktena. If the Southside along with the rest of Riverdale were to perish under Hal’s reign, where would they go? I could offer up the yard space outside the Spellman’s home, but I can’t guarantee how willing Zelda and Hilda would be to welcome strangers onto their property.

Joseph’s bunker could provide temporary sanctuary. Is it worth the risk, though? Would Joseph be willing to come out of the shadows to save what could be the last of the Serpents? I should find him the next time I have time to spare. I probably could this afternoon before I go back to Pop’s. But right now, I need to do my duties as a babysitter and take good care of JB.

When I enter the bedroom, I grab the first sweater I can find in my drawers. I should organize the clothes in this stupid thing, but first, I need to get that blanket to JB. I come over to the bed and yank the blanket off. Sunlight peaks into the room from the little window. It’s so bright, I have to bring my hand by my eyes to block off the glare. It makes the grey-white walls gleam, the ceramic lamp twinkle, the sigil carved onto my bed frame glow---

My hands lower onto the bed, still clinging onto the blanket. I lean closer, examining Hiram’s artistic skills. I almost forgot this was over my bed. I take some time to study its curves, the dashes. Why do I feel like I just saw this? I mean, where else could I have….

It hits me like a punch to the gut. Or to the heart.

THE SIGIL OVER MY BED IS THE EXACT SAME SYMBOL IN HIRAM’S BOOK.

Dropping the blanket back onto the bed, I rush back out into the living. I swipe the book off the coffee table, frantically flipping through the pages to find the sigil. I almost run into the door frame when I hurry back over to my dresser. I pull open drawer after drawer, looking for any kind of pen and paper to scribble notes on. Not finding much, I go back out to the kitchen and reach into my purse. I find a pen from Pop’s and a receipt from a couple days ago. I hustle back into the bedroom, plop down at the bed with the book open next to me, and get to work. I redraw the symbol, checking the bed frame for reference. From what I’ve learned about sigils, each one has their own meaning. I carved out sigils onto my pastries back at my shop, wishing patrons luck and fortune in their days. I also made plenty with Sabrina when she first learned how to draw them. It was like our own little language, our way of sending each other good vibes. Why did Hiram choose this sigil to associate with me? And what does it mean? There has to be a reason he penned it down next to Darcy’s love declaration.

I try to connect the dashes and curves to particular consonants. I can only make out a W, maybe an H and a T. Other than that, I have nothing. I start from scratch, going through all my possibilities. Still no luck. Was this sigil meant to be uncoded, Hiram? Were you anticipating on me finding out the meaning of your sigil? Because I do want to know how your mind works. I do want to discover what goes on in your mind. I want to know you. The real you.

“Ali?” a sleepy voice mumbles from the doorway. I’m too invested in my uncoding to see JB enter the bedroom. “Ali, what are you doing---”

“SHH!” I lift a finger up to her. I can hear her little feet shuffle over to where I sit. I rise up, my anxiety causing my ticks to manifest. I make another attempt to uncover the sigil’s meaning, but it’s no use. I let my hands fall to my sides, the book and receipt in one hand, the pen in another. I look down at JB in despair. “I….I can’t….”

JB takes the book and receipt out of my hand. “Here, let me.” She examines the contents for a good while. She tilts her head to the side in confusion. “What is this, Ali?”

I turn to my bed frame, gesturing to Hiram’s sigil. “He….he left me that symbol over my bed. And….and it’s in that book too! They match! But I….I can’t figure out what the hell it means!” My fingernails go to my skull. I collapse onto the bed feeling absolutely helpless. How can I not figure this out? Have all my years of studying witchcraft led up to nothing? Okay, I’m acting like a baby here, but me staying as long as I have in Riverdale has made me realize how weak my witchcraft has become. How much I’ve come to rely on others.

My eyes wander up to the girl, still peering down at the book. She glances back over at my bed frame, then back down. “I mean,” I say to her, “unless you can figure it out, honey. I don’t get why he wrote it in there, or why he carved it onto my bed frame.” My hand gestures back over to the sigil behind me. My brain’s spinning off in 20 directions. The sigil could mean anything! For all I know, Hiram could secretly be cursing me! I wind up rambling, “I don’t think he put that book into your pile on accident. Or maybe he did! I could just be looking way too much into this. He wrote all that stuff back when we were teenagers, so it probably means nothing now. Maybe I am getting paranoid, Jellybean! Or I am just a bad witch! I can’t decipher this sigil without an index or a number box---”

“Mister Lodge has an index right here.” her voice stops my rambling. I lift my head up just as JB hands the book to me. “It’s at the back of the book.”

I yank it out of her hands, rising up from the bed. Surely enough, there’s an index of every single sigil Hiram placed into his copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ , right on the last blank page. I’m over the moon! How did JB have the mindset to come across this? More enough, did she find the one I’m looking for?

“JB, how did you….”

“Well, I thought about finding an index, and….” the littlest Jones shrugs her shoulders and gestures to the object in my hands. “Next thing I know, my fingers go through the pages, landing on it. Like it wanted us to find it.”

My heart flutters. I could squeal in pure excitement. Instead, I plop a kiss onto JB’s temple, saying, “JB, you little genius! You’re a lifesaver!” I leave the girl giggling as I wander over closer to the window. I need to get a better light in order to read Hiram’s handwriting. I could just use some magic to turn on my bedside lamp but I’m already by the window. And I’m already dead set on finding out what that sigil means. I go down the list one by one - The first he has labeled as “I read without distraction”, the next being “I finish my analysis with ease”. Finally, I come to the sigil sitting over my bed and on that page.

Everything goes still. My mouth hangs open. My thumb pierces into the paper, underneath the sigil, and what it translates to.

**_My love is with you._ **

The book slips out of my hands, crashing onto the floor. My heartbeat pounds into my eardrums. The room gets blurry and spins, I have to turn around and slide down the wall to keep myself steady. Tears form in my eye sockets. The pieces in my brain finally come together.

He sought me out for a reason. He welcomed me into his home, his world for a reason. He got down on one knee out in that kitchen, he followed me through the woods, and he allowed me to heal him for a reason. And it has nothing to do with the Church of Night, or with his daughter, or with Sabrina.

It has everything to do with me.

“Aunt Ali?” JB kneels down in front of me. I break down sobbing, not able to hold my emotions back any longer. My knees cradle into my chest, my hands shake. JB latches herself next to me, making a valiant effort to calm me down. “Ali, what is it? What did he say?” My eyes wander back down to the book, to those words he penned into the page all those years ago. To the sigil over my bed, still holding the emotions he felt from high school, all the way to now.

Finally, I turn to JB. The corners of my mouth lift. The answer is clear in my head.

“He loves me. Hiram Lodge is in love with me.”

**_XXXXXXXX_ **

**_End of Chapter_ **

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, raise your hands if you knew Hiram loved her. Did I make it a little too obvious?
> 
> I'll keep yal updated when I update. Until then, Happy Thanksgiving to anyone celebrating!


	9. Good Omens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HO HO HO!
> 
> I'm actually really shocked that I was able to crank this out before the holiday, but HERE IT IS!
> 
> I hope everyone has a safe and happy Christmas (if you celebrate it) and let's kick off the New Year!

**ALICE**

I should have taken my car out here, but I needed the walk. And I need the time alone to think. To prepare for this spell I need to perform.

A protection spell requires objects to give that represents a person, or a group of people. I’ve got a bag full of items that JB helped me pick out. It’s not heavy by a long stretch, but the weight still causes my shoulder to droop. It doesn’t help that I’m in the bitter cold walking through town, and the sky is now dark grey. The location of where the witch performs the spell is also critical. I could have made life easier by going down to Pickens Park, or even the school. But for the sake of who I need to protect, I choose neither of those places. I choose the place where it all began.

I should have performed this kind of spell earlier at the Conway House, or even back at the trailer park. I should have done a circle of protection back when Hal snuck his way in, sliced up my arm, and tried to choke me. I’ve been so distracted with catching him that I didn’t consider doing what I could to protect the ones I care for the most. I didn’t do enough for Sabrina. I still have time, though, to make things right. That’s one reason I’m choosing to walk instead of drive. I mutter out ways I can tell her of Hal, of my involvement in the deaths of my classmates, of why I’m scared of her writing about Hal. If I can force the words out of me, it will make my life easier. It will save our relationship. Or it may not, considering how angry she currently is with me. Either way, getting it all out to Sabrina is a priority. 

But going over what to say to Sabrina is not the sole reason I’m taking the long walk.

I considered bringing the copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ Hiram gave to JB, but there’s too much sentimental value for it to be used in the spell. I need the visual reminder that what I learned is true. Hiram loves me, and I think he has loved me for a long time. Am I really all that surprised? Yes, but I can see why JB and everyone else picked up on the signs earlier than me. His utmost devotion, and his evolving desire to leave the Church were all influenced by his feelings for me. It’s beyond anything I’ve received from anyone, even Hal. 

When I think of the relationship I had with Hal, I see the flaws rising to the surface. I don’t think Hal truly cared for my wellbeing. I was only the pawn used for motivation, for his own gain. I originally would have thought the same of Hiram, but my views have changed. I know the real him, I know now of what he thinks of me. 

Do I love him back? Do I love him just as strongly? I….I wish I knew. I’ve spent most of the past 25 years alone, I never considered a chance of finding love. I didn’t want to. But then Sabrina came in, then the Jones, and now Hiram. All of my instincts, triggered by my trauma, would tell me to run. To think I’m saving all of them by leaving again. Goodbyes are hard enough as it is. My experiences would fool my brain to believe running is the best choice for me. Even if the Joneses care for my safety. Even if I did want to return Hiram’s love….

I think about the Jubilee. About Sabrina’s trial. What if news of her trials breaks the moment I decide to go to the Jubilee with him? _If_ I decide to go with him? No….I can’t lead Hiram astray. I don’t want to make promises only to break them. Besides, isn’t that what I’m doing already with Sabrina and her Aunts? It’s every reason to get me expelled from Greendale. To get excommunicated from a coven I never even chose to join! Thinking about the Book twists my stomach into knots. Another skeleton I have to dig up and present to Sabrina. I could laugh, and cry. 

I move on from the thought before I get emotional, moving onto the Conway House. And perfect timing, because I’m about to turn onto Fox Lane. An uncomfortable itch tingles in my body. It makes the injury on my forearm come to life. It makes my thigh cramp up and burn. If Hal dies, would the house finally disappear? Will the forest lining this town disappear too? I think of what could come of this place I once didn’t want to call home once we rid of Hal for good. I don’t want Riverdale to forget what rotted this place. I want them all to remember so they can find healthy ways to learn. To move on. To love one another better. I want them to welcome Joseph Conway home. I want Toni and her coven to be accepted once more. I want the Joneses to be happy, and for my other classmates and their children to live. And Hiram….

The chill rises the closer I get to the house. It still remains as it was when Hiram and I last came here. I contemplate whether or not to set up my spell inside the house or in the backyard. I make up my mind going up the walkway. I’ll do the protection spell out in the backyard. Considering what I have to do with the objects in this bag, it might be best to not perform the spell indoors.

I step in through the doorway, comforted by the darkness of this place. The outside light reflects against the dust on the floor. The symbols carved out from whoever performed the summoning spell are still present, only with more dust. I let out a sigh, fidgeting with the rings on my fingers, and I hope that Hal’s new witch isn’t suffering the way I did. I hope Joseph Conway isn’t freezing out in his bunker tonight. I head over into the kitchen to grab the tin trash can. I drag it out of the back door in the kitchen, making my way down the steps where I chased off Joseph days ago. I set the can down in the middle of the backyard, feeling wet snow land on top of my head. I let the bag slip off my shoulder and onto the ground. Then, I get to work.

I find spare wood lying around the scattered trees. I grab pieces one by one, plopping them inside the trash can. I pull out older newspapers from earlier in the week from my bag. I place those inside with the tree branches. Once I have enough supplies to move forward, I take a deep breath. I use pyrokinesis to set the wood and paper on fire.

The flames creep up, reaching my height. Little flickers kiss whatever leaves remain on the trees above me. I see the blue tints of the hottest part in between the wood and paper. I hold a hand over the flames, letting the warmth graze the inside of my arm, creeping all over my body. I go through the words of the spell in my head so I don’t trip up in the process. Once I’m warm enough and more sure of myself, I begin the spell. 

“Sisters and brothers of this world and out of sight. Hear my plea for the ones I call tonight. Bring them protection, give them love. Protect them from beasts and evils beyonds. Provide me guidance as I fulfill my plea. Here are the names I say to thee.”

I grab the first item in the bag. The crumpled photo of Rose Blossom and her group that Joseph gave us. I run my fingers along the grooved edges from where it’s been bent after so many times. I shut my eyes, concentrating on the subject. 

I pronounce, “Joseph Conway, survivor of the Riverdale Reaper.” I toss the photo into the flames, watching the orange change into blood red. “May light guide you after my work is done.”

I go for the next items in my bag, another photo and one of the books from the Joneses’ trailer. I glare down at the still image of FP, Gladys, and their kids. The book was some fantasy kids story originally belonging to Jughead’s until he passed it down to JB. She claimed that she wouldn’t be upset to give up the book when she gave it to me back at the trailers. I only hope FP and Gladys won’t ask questions on its whereabouts, or on what happened to this photo.

I hesitate briefly before sacrificing both the book and the photograph into the fire. “FP Jones the Second, Gladys Cohen, and their two children, Jughead and Jellybean. May light guide you all after my work is done.”

The flames this time glow green. I peer down, watching the photograph dissolve. 

The next item I go for is the business card for Toni’s shop. The logo stands out against the stock card paper. If all else fails, I do wish for Toni to succeed, to find some form of happiness later on in her life. And I beg the dead from beyond to not allow Joaquin to join them. “Toni Topaz, future leader of the new Uktena. And her friends….including Joaquin Desantos.” I drop the card, seeing pink flames rise into the sky. “May light guide you after my work is done.”

I reach into the bag for my next item, one more personal. A handwritten recipe provided to me by Hilda Spellman. I brought an index of recipes with me to use so I could provide Sabrina with some homefelt comfort. I never actually had a chance to dig into any of the recipes, and now, I’m not sure if that will mend things between us. At least I now have a good use for the recipe card.

“Sabrina Spellman….” I pause, unsure of how to phrase the next part out loud. Is she my niece? A friend? A pupil? Someone I’m going to lose if I don’t hurry up? I eventually go with, “a daughter beyond blood.” I fling the recipe card in, the flames go red again. “May light guide you after my work is done.”

I go for the last and final object in my bag. This time, my movements are slower. This one took me a while to find, buried in one of my coats. The note Hiram gave me before Chuck Clayton’s demise. The note that led me to place my faith into him. The way the letters glow against the fire’s light are smooth. I run my fingers along his handwriting. I trace his initials and mine together on my wrist. I wish he were here now, telling me it’s okay to let the note go. I want him here to confirm what he wrote in that book. More than anything, I want to….

I shove the thought away, not wanting to stay distracted a moment longer. With a shaky voice, I proceed. “Hiram Lodge….my friend. My sense of support. And his daughter….Veronica.” I hold the note over the flames, taking one last look at the words he penned. The meaning that prompted me to be where I stand. I shut my eyes, feeling them get wet. I release my hold on the note.

“May light guide you after my work is done.”

I curl my hand into a fist. I can’t remember if I need to conclude the spell with one more call to each person, with one more promise of safe passage. So, I improvise a bit, muttering each name one more time. The names slur together, all clumping into a singular existing thing. I want them all to live. I want them to no longer live in perpetual fear. Not after what I started years ago. And certainly not what Hal has done since this town came into existence.

I end my performance of the spell, “I ask you, tonight, let these names see another day. May light guide them when I….when I surrender the price to pay. And may they never walk the earth alone. Light guide them all….long after I am gone.”

I snap my fingers. I hear the flames blow out in a gust of wind, embracing me with a euphoric rainbow of colors. I open my eyes, rubbing at my throat. Smoke fills the air, the smell is not as terrible as I imagined. Good, I must have done it right. I look down at the ashes inside the trash can. My items are gone, but it signals that whoever is beyond has heard me. It will guarantee protection for them all. 

At least I think it does. I lean in more, noticing one unburnt part of one photograph. In the pile of ash and burnt wood, FP is the only figure remaining. His part has gone untouched.

A branch cracks in the distance. I look up, my mind now off FP’s unburnt photo. I glance around the woods in front of me. It’s probably just an animal. Or a creep. Or Hal. I brace myself, ready for an attack, backing up towards the house and grabbing my empty bag. A shadow forms a shape in the distance. The source of the noise? I squint, attempting to better understand who is daring to face me at this time of day. I decide to produce a new flame inside the trash can. It might be the only way I can see what I have to go up against. I begin to sense an aura…. It’s one I’ve felt before. One filled with sadness and regret. 

The figure approaches the scene closer. When I finally get a good look, I ease up. My heartbeat slows. “Joseph?”

“You shouldn’t be out here, miss.” the surviving Conway comes into the light. The wrinkles on his face have increased. His teeth chatter from the cold. He inches more to the fire, in baby steps. “The Reaper still haunts these woods.”

“You think I didn’t know that?” I tease, not wanting to sound too cruel. I see him eyeballing the flames. Knowing that I’m not facing a threat, I move over the Joseph. He backs away, I hold my hands up. I gesture back to the fire behind me. “You wanna go closer? You look like you’re freezing.” He doesn’t say a word to me. He keeps his eyes trained on my flames. Eventually, he shuffles over, sticking his hands over the trash can. His chattering stops. He rubs his hands together in a methodical way. I see the corners of his mouth lift. I join him, looking back up at the house. I wonder if we both have ghosts waiting for us inside.

“What brings you back?” 

I blink down at him. I see him glance around at the sky. He looks lost. I bring one hand to my bicep, rubbing it for warmth. I shrug my shoulders. “Needed to get….work done. I needed to figure out how to….keep everyone safe.”

“Is your companion with you?” I’m confused at his question. I turn to him just as he looks back at me. “The man who came to the house with you. Is he….” I glare down at the fire. The mere mentioning of Hiram gets me emotional. I shut my eyes, concentrating on my breathing. I see flashes of him. And FP. And Toni. And Sabrina. What if my spell failed? Will they become part of the dead like everyone else? Will they never let me rest in peace?

“No. It’s just me.” I force myself to speak. My cheeks become hot and heavy. My nails dig into the fabric between the nails and my flesh. Blood rushes to my eardrums. I need to calm down. But only after I make my amends here.

I open my eyes. I turn all the way to face Joseph. He glances up at me, unsure of what I will pull on him next. I stutter out disjointed words, “Joseph….before you….leave…..I need you to promise me something. Can I ask you….”

Joseph’s eyes wander, from his feet, to the sky, everywhere. “Depends on what it is you need, miss. If it’s related to the Reaper---”

“It’s not. Well….not fully.” I pause for a second to breathe. I have to slow down, otherwise I’m going to scare him away. I need him, I have to get Joseph Conway on my side. If I don’t….I might not have any other backup options. I step closer to him, feeling my own hands tremble. “There are these kids I’m….they’re on the Southside. A young girl I’ve volunteered to look after. My neighbors' youngest. And….a few younger Serpents.” I watch Joseph’s eyes flare up at the mentioning of the gang. I bring a hand up, “They’re good. I’ve met them. They’re all good kids….in somewhat of a good place…. I’m worried that place won’t be good for much longer.”

Joseph sits on my words for a moment. From his expression, I can’t tell if he’s absorbed what I said or not. I don’t know if he’ll even understand any of it. His mouth forms an O shape, then it closes together in a tight line. He sighs.

“You want me to shelter them from the Reaper? If you….if you were to die?” 

I could fall into the snow. If I were to die…. Well, that’s one way of putting it. I chew on my lips, needing more time before I give him an answer. Joseph fills the silence, “You think the Reaper will come for you and those kids?”

“Not really the kids he wants. But he’ll go after them anyway…..” I keep my sentence there. I don’t really want to admit to Joseph, _But Hal will go after them anyway to spite me. To prove that I am a failure, and I couldn’t save them._ My injuries cry for attention at these thoughts. I wince, placing a hand on the rim of the trash can to keep me upright. The rim’s hot, but it prevents me from getting too caught up into Hal.

Joseph slowly nods. I think he finally catches onto my suggestion. Still, Joseph asks, “What makes me worthy of becoming a hero, miss? I’m not brave. I hid when the Reaper murdered my family. I am still hiding after all these years. I haven’t earned redemption.” He looks back down at the fire, more guilty than how he appeared back down in his bunker.

His age is beginning to show. 50 years of hiding in the shadows has not benefited him. The way 25 years of hiding form Riverdale has damaged me. Will I turn out like Joseph in the future? Isolated, trapped, and jumping at every noise? I think I was down that path, and I would still be now. That is where I have to thank Sabrina for entering the picture. I would be where Joseph is if she hadn’t come in. If she hadn’t refused her Baptism. I grip onto the rim of the can tighter. _Not tonight, Alice. Answer his question. What makes him your choice?_

For starters, I can’t guarantee Hilda and Zelda providing sanctuary for anyone upon Sabrina’s return. Second, while I could bring the kids over to my bakery, I fear the space will not hold them all. Third….if I die, who will look after them? What if FP and Gladys don’t make it? What if Toni cannot get ahold of other Uktena members? What if Hiram has another episode from….whatever it was Veronica did to him, and he cannot get himself cured in time?

The hot rim makes my palm sizzle. I hate overthinking about the future. I don’t want to believe any one of the people I’ve become acquainted with will die. But I am one to always have the worse case scenarios. And I don’t trust many other people in Riverdale besides my crew. 

I finally craft an answer in my head. I let go of the rim, making a mental note to cure it later, and meet Joseph's gaze. What I say to him is the truth.

“You are a survivor, Joseph Conway. You’ve faced horrid things no one should witness in their lifetime. And here you are, still standing tall. You made these woods your home. You know where the Reaper goes when he isn’t attacking. That makes you worthy, Joseph. Do you understand?” I notice his hand beginning to shake. I hear his breathing waiver, sounding unstable. I breathe in, then I take his shaking hand into my own. I’m surprised at how coarse his hands feel. Then again, It’s all these years of living off the land and hunting for food. It’s shifted how he sees the world, maybe not for the best, but certainly not the worst.

I look straight at Joseph. “You say you haven’t earned redemption, but that’s not true. What happened to your family, and to that man out in Pickens Park, was not your fault. You have spent years making it up to your family. I see it in that research you collected in your bunker. I see how….protective you are of this place.” I stop, glancing back over at the empty house. Cars zoom past down the street. I’m shocked, really, that no one’s come by to see what the hell is going on in the backyard. Worried that my luck may change, I decide to wrap up my point. “Personally, that makes you heroic to me.” 

Joseph’s quiet for a long while. Then, I see his lips form a U shape. His hand becomes smooth. Calm. I look into his mind. While he doesn’t outwardly say it, he’s….grateful for what I said? Enamored? I can’t put it that well in words, but the intent is visible. It puts me a little more at ease.

His eyes wander back up to the sky, then back out to the woods behind us. “It’s getting awfully late, miss. You should get back into town. Would you like for me to….” he pauses mid-sentence. I don’t get why at first, but it does hit me. An act of courtesy? Vulnerability? Fear?

I wave it off by telling him, “I know my way around, Joseph. No need to fret over me.” I give him a two finger salute and a grin for extra measure. He laughs, perhaps for the first time in years. I let go of his hand, and I bring my gaze back down to the fire. How do I put this out without revealing my magic to him? I should wait until he leaves before taking care of this, but I can’t stay out at the house forever.

“You can leave now, if you want. I’ll stay by the fire.” Joseph reassures me, adopting that sad voice again. He holds both hands out close to the flames. “Good thing you put this on. I was rather cold in my bunker.” He keeps his attention at the fire, not saying another word to me. He’s acting almost the same as he did when I first met him. Only this time, he’s more hopeful. He’s no longer as afraid. Or alone. He’s….trusting of me.

I would wave goodbye to him, or wish him safe travels back into his woodland home, but he looks so content at my makeshift fireplace. It would be rather rude of me to disturb that peace. I wander away from the area, moving at a snail’s pace as I make my way around the house. I take one last look at the house. It might be the last one I get in a while, and I don’t plan on going back here anytime in the future. 

It’s funny to think my journey began here all because of a stupid dare. But even then, I stopped by this place long before going at the command of Penelope Blossom. What lied in there horrified me. What rests in front of me now can no longer harm me. It’s an empty shell of a home, a graveyard, if you want to call it that. But to me, it’s a place where I have come to face what I am, and what I have to do.

It’s the place where I can finally begin to live.

Going in the opposite route of the one I took as a teenager, I head back into town. I keep my head bent down to my forearms. My teeth chatter when a cold breeze hits my face. I rub my palms together in an effort to produce some warmth, feeling my rings make contact with one another. I allow my fingers to run across the tattooed contract on my wrist. Even this much in the dark, Hiram’s initials glow when I push down on that area of my flesh. I wonder if he’s at Pembrooke right now, finishing up work for the night or about to have dinner with Veronica. I wonder if he can suspect the turmoil I’m facing thinking about him. Is it even worth admitting how I feel if I’m about to leave soon? If I even leave? No….he has to know. I can’t leave him in the dark, I’ve done that too much already. But what do I say? That I know the meaning of his sigil thanks to a smart aleck eleven-year-old? That I regret being a complete, utter bitch to him and should have given him a chance back in high school? Why am I becoming so dysfunctional?

My distracted thoughts keep me from seeing the sudden appearance of light from behind me. As well as the sound of a growling noise coming to a stop. My heart races. My shoulders stack over my ribcage. I curl my hands into fists, heel-toeing in a backwards circle. It’s Hal - there’s no other explanation. 

Or….so I think. Why would Hal utilize such bright lights? And….and whose car is this? I release one of my fists and bring the hand up to shield my eyes. The door opens. A dark figure emerges from inside. A hazy gold lines the figure coming over to me. The darkness is traded for bluish grey. The face becomes clearer. My confusion is traded for frustration. He’s no longer in his Sheriff’s uniform, but it’s easier to make him out over the car’s lights. 

I scoff when I lower my hand. I roll my eyes. “You scared the shit out of me, Tom.”

“Wendy, I….” Tom stumbles on his words, inching closer to me. He goes to reach for me, hesitating to place his hand on my shoulder. Eventually, he decides to let it drop at his side. He points to the car behind him. He nervously tilts his head at me. “What are you doing walking around this part of town by yourself? You realize there’s a killer on the loose….right?”

“So I’ve heard.” I pass off my strange behavior with a snark. Despite him no longer holding the name, he still embraces that Sheriff-esque attitude. I don’t think me playing off anything will pass by him so easily. But his efforts don’t come off as harsh. There’s genuine concern in his actions. I contemplate how deep I want to go in my own emotions, wondering if it will help me get pass Tom Keller. I huff, crossing my arms together. I wind up speaking a little bit from the heart, not wanting to give too much of my personal life away. “I needed to clear my head. It’s been a long couple of days.”

“No shit.” Tom chuckles. He turns his head towards the other shoulder, looking back at where I just came from. “Seems a little odd that you’re on….” I grit my teeth, squeezing my eyes shut. Crap, maybe I didn’t think this one through all that well. Let’s see, I don’t really feel like seducing him to make him disappear, and it’s too risky to hex him with my demon-ex-boyfriend nearby. My fingers twist the ring on my left thumb. That part of my flesh squishes against my bones. I memorize the sensation. I let it guide my thought process.

Once I move past the recent tick, I speak. “I’ve heard about the Conway House. Wanted to see it for myself. And….since I had time before I needed to go back to Pop’s…..” I gesture my hands out to him, leaving my elbows at a 90 degree angle. I smirk. “Here I am. So….sorry I made you freak out.”

I bring the side of one hand to my other palm, looking down at the pavement. I bring that side of my hand up and down on my palm for a while. The inside of my bottom lip slides up so it covers both set of teeth. I examine my hangnails forming. A pair of shoes enter my view, the tips nearly kissing mine. 

I look up just as he says, “You didn't.” Tom’s eyes have gone soft. His face relaxed. Am I hallucinating, or is Tom…. 

Wanting to not get sucked up into this, I glance over his shoulder at the abandoned vehicle. I take a step back, crossing my arms together. I point to it, “Where were you, uh….heading?”

“Oh.” Tom runs his fingers through his hair. The grey in his once brown hair stands out. His behavior is beginning to sketch me out. What exactly led him to find me out here? And what is keeping him from leaving?

He smiles. He points to the car again. “To Pop’s, actually. You want me to give you a ride?” The realization of the words leaving his tongue stun me. The headlights still blare at both of us. Looking at his vehicle, I make an _O_ with my mouth. I do this to buy me time and come to a decision. A car ride could let my feet rest, and it will warm me up. But I’d feel trapped and unable to do anything if trouble brewed. Plus….I’m not really sure what Tom Keller thinks he’ll gain besides a good samaritan award. Don’t get me wrong, Tom is a good man. He’s brave and true. But he’s…. He’s just not Hiram.

The ticks in my rolling ankles and the soreness of my thigh lead me to make my choice. I put on an airy voice, “Why the hell not? My dogs were barking anyway.” I wait until I move past Tom before I remove my fixed smile. The real challenge will be to stay interested in what Tom might say, and to not think about the fate of Joseph. Or the fate of my future with Sabrina. Or how I’m starting to feel about Hiram. 

Now, I just want to get warm and relax.

XXXXXXXX

**TONI**

The shop smells of pan-fried sausage and vegetables. I’m starving as I log the finances from today into the books, and it doesn’t help that I have my crockpot perched on top of the counter. I figured that I could bring food to Nancy’s meeting as a welcoming gift. The recipe belonged to Granddad - roasted sausage of any kind with onions, peppers, and potatoes. I’ve adapted his recipe over the years the more I lived on my own, and I think I’ve found a variation of the recipe that works best for me. I silently hope Nancy and the others in her group will enjoy it as well. The aroma wafts through the shop, calming down my anxiety a bit. I’m nervous about tonight. How will the others view me? Will they see me as snobbish, or overstepping my boundaries? Nancy’s assured that they’re excited to meet me. I don’t know how many times she must have coaxed me as she dropped me back off at my shop. Even again when she texts me that she’ll come back to drive me over to Pretty Poisons.

“You really didn’t have to do this, Toni.” she tells me after helping me place the crockpot carefully into the backseat of her trunk. For a moment, I fear it will slosh all over the place, but we have it secured between her materials for tonight. “We normally go out for dinner afterwards, or just bring a handful of snacks. But a whole meal…”

“What the hell? We’re nearing the holidays. I think we all need some holiday cheer.” I shut the door and move closer to the passenger’s side. I jump in, strapping on my seatbelt as Nancy gets her vehicle started. The drive over to the tattoo parlor gives us the privacy to review our good news from Mayor McCoy. The meeting’s not for another 15 to 20 minutes, but Nancy wanted to head over early to set up, and to allow me time to meet her team. I think it’s a sweet gesture. And it’s nerve wracking as hell. I go through calming spells in my head just to keep it together. But the more we keep discussing the Mayor and her plans for us, I can’t help but go back to what she admitted to me. She’s a witch lawyer. She knows about the Uktena. She wants me to hide everything about myself for just a while longer. But how much longer? Until the Reaper wrecks the town? Time is ticking, and I’ve done enough hiding.

The car comes to a stop, parking just outside the tattoo parlor. She has it so her hood faces the front door, with us facing the rest of the parking lot. I look back to the seats behind me, and I silently thank the spirits for not letting my crockpot tilt over and wreck the inside of Nancy’s truck.

I shiver as the ignition turns off. My biceps tense up from the cold. My teeth chatter. Nancy touches my arm, calling my attention to her. “Hey. They’re going to love what you made. Besides, who’s going to turn down a warm meal around here?” My lips curl upward, mostly because what she said brought me some comfort, but also….it reminds me how lucky I have it right now. Most residents on the Southside barely have the financial means to have food on their tables. During the holidays, the issue worsens for those not able to secure a job, or have friends willing to help provide a roof over their heads and food in their stomachs. My situation may not be ideal, but thanks to Granddad and the revenue from the shop, I at least have enough to get by. So, Nancy’s right. If I didn’t have this cushion, I wouldn’t be turning down what’s sitting in my crockpot.

“I’m ready when you are.” I announce, undoing my seatbelt and climbing out of her truck. Once she gets out, she helps to grab her items for the night while I carefully grab for my crockpot. Nancy goes ahead over to the front door of the place so I can get through first. She holds it open, winking at me. “After you, Miss Topaz.”

The music is the first thing I process walking into Pretty Poisons. For some reason, I assumed hard rock would be blasting out of the speakers. But no. Alternative pop plays, I have to pay more attention to it over the noise coming from the back of the parlor. The 80s synthesizer and the hypnotic vocals sound oddly familiar. I think I might have this song on one of my various playlists for the shop after I randomly heard it on the radio. When Nancy joins my side, I ask who the artist is. “Tame Impala, it’s _The Less I Know the Better_! Good song, right!” she raises her voice the closer we get. I nod my head in approval, following Nancy as she goes to set aside the curtain leading to the back.

I step in through the makeshift void, almost running into a body looming over me. I grip tighter onto the handles of my crockpot. I look up at this…. For a moment, I think it’s Alice. The blonde of her hair is identical. The eyes have the same shape and color. But the more I look at this Alice-copycat, the more on edge I become. This isn’t Alice, she’s much shorter, probably closer to my height. Her jawline isn’t as crisp. She’s rough around the edges. A nasty scar has made a home on her forearm. Rumors have crawled all over the Southside wondering how that scar wound up there. Unfortunately, due to my time as a member of the Serpents, I know the real reason.

The scar was where her Serpent tattoo used to be before she got exiled and had it removed.

“Well, well, well….” she pronounces while grimacing down at me. “Never thought I’d see your face in here, Topaz. Your pals still looking for a replacement Snake Charmer?”

I swallow the lump down my throat, I roll my shoulders back. When I speak to her, when I say her name, it oozes out of my mouth like a poisonous hex. “The job’s still vacant, if that’s what you’re asking, Penny. And we don’t plan on filling it any time soon.”

Penny smirks at me in a ghoulish manner. Funny how I say ghoulish, because it’s….freakishly appropriate, now that Penny’s a member of the Ghoulies. Or at least that’s what’s circulating within the Serpents. But I can’t trust everything I hear coming out of any Serpents’ mouth. The Joneses and Hog Eye are probably the only members I trust, and dare I include my own crew, and Nancy. I would….if I didn’t have Sierra McCoy’s warning dancing through my head like a cautionary Sugar Plum Fairy. I’d rather take that over Penny any day.

She lets out a low-registered cackle. “How did you find your little way into this group, Topaz? When did you suddenly get into activist work?”

“She’s with me, Penny.” Nancy steps in, shoving a stack of paperwork into her face. “How about you make yourself useful and check everyone in?” Penny stares at her in shock. I can’t help but smirk. Nancy defended me? Good thing I did show up with Nancy, because I might have turned into Penny’s dinner.

The blonde scowls. She grabs the paperwork and slips past us. She looks back over her shoulder at me, her lips in a straight line. “Interested to see how you contribute. Wonder if you’ll make your granddaddy proud.” The comment hits me in an unsettling manner. Penny grimaces at me again, then she walks away, heading to the front door.

_Wonder if you’ll make your granddaddy proud._ What the hell is that supposed to mean? I want to convince myself to let it go, that Penny is only messing with me. But the last part is seeping into the cracks of my brain. That the work I have thrown myself into has not been enough. That what I do will never satisfy Granddad, or the Uktena.

I feel a pair of hands removing the crockpot from my violent grip. “Here, I’ll set this down for you.” I turn away from where Penny left to find Nancy now cradling my meal in her arms. She sense something off with me, despite the fact that I’m trying not to look shaken up. Her lips go down in an upside down U. She steps in to me, lowering her voice. “I’m sorry, Toni. She’s a little….”

“Abrasive?” I snort. “Yeah, no shit. I remember how much she freaked us out back then.” I fold my arms over one another. I only have a few memories of interacting with Penny, but only through second or third hand encounters with the boys. She took on the role as Snake Charmer when I was in the middle of high school, which means that a good amount of members my age, including my own friend group, fell victim to the traps she laid out. It was nothing sexual, thank the spirits, but it was always drug runs or stealing information from the cops when anyone needed her as a lawyer or a contractor. Poor Fangs got wrapped up in one escapade when he needed money to care for his family. Same with Joaquin, especially with a little brother to look out for. Sweet Pea and I lucked out of not dealing with her bribes, and eventually her behavior came back to haunt her. 

I vaguely remember the night our Serpent Leader, a man named Tall Boy, had us vote on her excommunication during a meeting at the Whyte Wyrm. The room was in solid agreement of letting her go, not a tear shed or a word of defense spoken. What happened following the vote…. I didn’t stick around to see that part. I only heard from Hog Eye afterwards, which I related later to the Joneses and to my own crew. But I could hear Penny screaming and the sound of a knife slicing open skin as I left the Wyrm. You don’t forget things like that, no matter how badly you want to block it out.

“Honestly, Toni, I wouldn’t want her staying in this group, either.” Nancy admits to me. “But….we need a good alliance with the Ghoulies. And, unfortunately, she was one of the few members willing to take part.” She begins to head over to the other side of the room, motioning for me to come follow her. I stay by her side as she continues, “But, I can at least say with full confidence, the other Ghoulie members we have are good people. I think you’ll get along fine with Baby Teeth and Kurtz. But everyone, besides Penny, here is good. Go ahead, Toni. Make yourself at home.”

Nancy goes over to a nearby table to set my crockpot down. Looking around the room, I finally notice more people, a near even mix of girls and boys. Some of the faces I have never seen before, I think maybe they’re the Ghoulies Nancy mentioned. The rest I recognize from the demonstration yesterday. Two Serpent girls wave hello to me. A young man comes over to my direction. It takes me a second or two to remember where exactly I’ve seen him before, he’s got beads of sweat on his forehead, he looks like he just worked out. But when I do, I get excited. It’s the speaker who brought me up onto the gazebo steps.

“You finally made it.” he extends his hand out to me, which I take. “And….I see you survived the wrath of Penny Peabody.”

“Not the first time I’ve dealt with her.” I chuckle. I look out to the side, where Nancy is chatting with the other female Serpents and getting my crockpot set up. She notices me and gives me a little wave. Air leaves my head, blood rushes down to my fingertips. I lift the corners of my mouth at her, bringing my fingers to the air.

My new friend points at the crockpot. “Did you make that?”

I snap out of my dazed attitude, turning my attention to him. “Yeah. Granddad’s recipe.”

“Well, I can’t wait to try it out….uh….” His head goes back slightly. He points a finger at me. I hear a faint chuckle escape from his lips. “Sorry, I don’t think I ever got your name, even though I know Nance brought you up.” Now that I think of it, I don’t think I had much of a chance to introduce myself to the other members following my speech. I really only stuck around with Fangs up until I left to help Joaquin. I have primarily been with Nancy today. Plus, I have no idea if I’ve seen this guy around the Southside before. I study his workout wear for any clues - a navy blue crew neck underneath his leather hoodie. The crew neck’s got white lettering spelling out El Royale, over top a lion ready to beat up someone. A boxer, I guess? Whatever this guy is, he seems like a good friend to Nancy, and I have a feeling he and I will work together more in the future. So, I tell him my name and my line of work. 

“Topaz….like a gemstone? That’s really cool! I’m Munroe, but everyone around here just calls me Mad Dog. It’s my, uh….it’s kind of like my boxing name.” I smile as Munroe gestures down to his crew neck. In a way, his demeanor reminds me of Fangs and Joaquin rolled into one.

Thinking about Fangs and Joaquin leads me to scan the rest of this little room. Did Fangs go yesterday? I’ve been so caught up with Joaquin and Nancy, I can’t remember if I learned of this information. And I doubt he’s made anything aware to Sweet Pea. Will he come tonight? Would he know of….is he going to find out about Joaquin?

“Here, you wanna come sit with us?” Munroe calls me back to the real world. He gestures to three empty seats nearby the other Serpent girls. “We’re probably gonna go round-robin anyway to meet everyone and catch you up to speed, but I figure I can at least introduce you to them.” The girls strike up conversation with Munroe as he makes his way over. I decide to sit down next to him, leaving the seat on my left open. I silently ask the spirits to leave it unoccupied so I won’t get stuck next to Penny….if she does decide to come my way. I spy her creeping in from behind the curtain, remaining by the wall. She keeps her eyes trained on me from that dark place, her aura glowing somewhere in between red and black. It’s discomforting to observe.

“So, your family was part of the Original Serpents?” one of the Serpent girls asks. At first, I think it’s directed at Munroe, or even to Nancy far away. I turn to her, only to find both girls looking at me in excitement, waiting for an answer. I quickly realize that the question is meant for me. I give them a condensed (and heavily censored) version of my family. I think Sierra would be proud of how I handled myself if she overheard this conversation, and my answer seems to impress both girls. I start to get a brief history of how these girls wound up in the Serpents, and why they’re taking part in Nancy’s group. One of the girls’ stories strikes familiarity, just in the way she describes her coming into the group.

“Wait,” I ask, “when did you join?”

“A year or two ago.” the girl admits. She pushes some of her dark hair away from her grey blue eyes. “I got kicked out of my boarding school over some stupid prank my friends and I got involved in. The police wound up getting involved and everything, it was embarrassing, really. So, when I got sent home, they just shuttled me here to live with my Aunt. They adamantly refused to let me keep living with them. I had nowhere to go. Some of the girls around here were talking about joining, I followed in suit hoping it would give me something. After I initiated, that’s when the panic set in. I didn’t fully understand what I had gotten myself into. And I had to go get my tattoo, because….because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right?”

“That’s when you came to Nancy.” The girl looks up at me in pure shock. I nod my head, “She’s told me about you coming into this place.”

The girl peers over her shoulder to find Nancy making her way over to the circle, next to me. She finishes her little story, “Yeah, In a way, she kind of saved me. We’re all kind of on this island of misfit toys together.” Nancy sits down, plopping her stack of papers onto her lap. The group begins to shush one another in anticipation. The girl leans across Munroe, quickly whispering, “I’m Donna, by the way. Donna Sweett.”

“Nice to meet you, Donna.” I exchange in a hushed voice, just as Nancy addresses the group, beginning the meeting. The circle looks up to her as if she were some almighty figure. I don’t blame them. A hazy orange traces her outline, exhibiting happiness, confidence. It hits me finally that this is the first instance of me seeing her aura. I could glance about to read the other auras of the room, but I don’t. And I really don’t want to make contact with Penny or her aura for the remainder of this meeting. So, like the rest of the room, I stay on Nancy, feeling her radiating energy warm me.

“Alright, so….I’ve got good news from the Mayor. She’s allowed for us to make a speech during the Jubilee.” The room whoops and hollers. Munroe chuckles next to me, pounding his fist onto his kneecap. Nancy sighs, waiting for the hype to die down. “But….that does come with some strings attached.” This kills the excitement slightly. Questions get thrown out, What does that mean? Are they gonna make us spew out some pro-Riverdale garbage? From the back of the room, Penny smirks. A chill runs down my back. Nancy regains control of the room, “She doesn’t want for any of us to get into trouble until we go up on that stage Friday night. That’s all she said. And she is with us, on OUR side. She told me herself.”

“So, what does that mean? We can’t go out and keep doing our marches?” one of the male members speaks up. His pale skin stands out compared to most of the members in here. His sunken eyes and bleached blonde hair make him appear skeletal. His tone of voice shifts, one to more sincere. “If Mayor McCoy is with us, why is she stepping down? Especially now?”

“Believe me, I asked her that, Baby Teeth.” Nancy clutches the papers tighter. I look back at the kid, noticing the way he shrinks in his seat. The Ghoulie next to him (if this blonde kid is Baby Teeth, that must be Kurtz) places a hand onto his shoulder. He sends a look of disappointed worry to Nancy. If only I could tell this group of what Sierra confessed to me when I spoke with her in private. If only they had any real clue of what I’m doing in this room, what I want to really accomplish.

Nancy stands up, placing the papers down on her seat. “But she gave me her word that whoever replaces her in that office will give us just as much respect, and just as much determination to help out the Southside. It doesn’t guarantee anything a hundred percent, but it’s a sign of hope. A sign of….change. For the better.”

Penny snorts, sending us all into an eerie silence. She pushes herself away from the wall, her figure glowing in a grim manner. “That’s cute, Peaches.” she addresses Nancy, not even attempting to use her real name in place of her Serpent name, “But you all haven’t run this gauntlet as long as me. Those Northsiders won’t guarantee shit to help us, no matter what pretty little lies they try to sell us. No matter how much they wrap it up, put a bow on top, and stick it under a tree. Appropriate, right? Since it’s the holidays and all?”

“I trust Sierra, we have a good working relationship. If she were lying to all of us, I wouldn’t have even gone in to see her today.” Penny doesn’t take her thoughts into consideration. She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. Then, she makes direct eye contact with me.

“What about you, Topaz? You believe the Mayor’s duping all of us?” The room goes dead silent. Almost everyone has their eyes pinned on me. Even Munroe and Donna. I need to give them all an answer, but I certainly don’t want my words to blow through Penny’s ears. She comes more out of the shadows, resting her hands on top of a chair next to Baby Teeth. I see one of her eyebrows raise, egging me on.

I roll my shoulders back. I cross one of my legs over the other, leaving my hands glued onto my lap. I exchange looks with the rest of the group, as if I were speaking to them, and not just to her. “Why else would Nancy and I have spent our morning to go and see her?” Whispers fill the dead space. Penny loses her streak of confidence. I allow myself to have this moment of victory and smirk at her. “Sierra McCoy gave us her direct blessing to go up on that stage Friday night. Doesn’t sound like duping anyone to me.”

It takes a long time for Penny to respond back. She clamps her lips together to form a tight line. The knuckles on her fingers turn yellow and white. She tilts her head, then she releases the chair from her talon-like grip. “Fair enough.” she mutters. The room breaks out into laughter. I glow, taking in my small win. Munroe lifts his thumb up to me. Donna smiles at me before she glances over at Penny. The smile disappears when the blonde looks over at her. The eyebrow shoots up again. Donna returns to her normal position, shrinking into herself. That’s odd….what power does Penny hold over this girl?

My train of thoughts become interrupted when I hear something buzz over the noise growing in this room. I notice Nancy pulling out her phone and glancing down almost with an inquisitive manner. Is everything alright? I go to ask, but she slips her phone back into the pocket of her leather jacket. She looks over to Munroe and me, “Can you start leading a brainstorming session? I’ll be back in a minute.” She lifts the corners of her mouth at me, then she hurries out through the curtain.

“Probably just checking more people in.” Munroe reassures me. “We have lte stragglers sometimes. But we’ll catch them up.” I nod my head, not saying much in return. In fact, the whole room is sketching me out. First, Penny Peabody’s glaring at me from the other side of the room. Then, she’s giving the young Serpent girl a fright. And Nancy…. No, I don’t believe Nancy’s involved in this. It’s funny….I wanted to peer down at her phone to see who had contacted her. Why else would she have grinned at me? I sit on these possibilities while Munroe gets everyone to start working on ideas for the speech. People pair off into smaller groups, writing things down onto paper. From the other side, Penny smirks at Donna, as if she has the girl under a spell. I go to suggest that Donna can stay with me and Munroe. Before I get a chance, Donna sheepishly makes her way over to Penny, not looking my way at all.

“Are you thinking of including the Uktena?”

I blink at Munroe, feeling my throat dry up. I clear it quickly and hope he didn’t witness me faze out. “Depends.” I reply. I consider whether or not it’s wise to include Munroe in the lineup of who Sierra McCoy does not want me giving away my lineage to. I peer over by the entryway, but still no sign of Nancy. I look back at him, “It could bring a new perspective. But even if I were to….essentially redo my speech from yesterday, I’m going to need time to reword everything. I don’t think the Mayor would appreciate me land blasting the Riverdale Founders the moment I go to open my mouth.” He chuckles, I light up. Well, I need to. I can’t exactly tell Munroe that it’s not a good idea to expose myself or my coven, or the others, with a chaos-hungry demon on the loose.

Munroe shrugs his shoulders. “Well, _I_ thought your speech was awesome. And, I think I can speak on behalf of the group when I say we all got something out of it. I knew the Serpents were here a long time before I joined. I didn’t realize it originated from the Natives in the area.” He pauses for a second, glancing down at the linoleum floor. He shifts around in his seat, I’m not really able to explain why he does that. “Is it only you, Toni? I mean….are you the only one of the Uktena left in Riverdale?”

Weight lowers onto my shoulders. It’s not that loaded of a question. I get people asking me constantly where my family is, why I’m the only one around the shop, etcetera. But this time, it hits me weirdly. Maybe because it’s someone Nancy has good acquaintance with? Maybe because I’m opening up about myself more? Because my bloodline and my craft is on the line? I stay quiet for a good minute. I need to answer this carefully. I need to think…. How would I tell Nancy if she were the one who asked me? How would I have told Alice?

Once I gather my thoughts, I speak.

“My Granddad went back to his hometown long ago. He’s in Toledo. My parents….they were never really in the picture for a good amount of my childhood. Dad was in jail, Mom caught up traveling with my Granddad. So, I spent most of my life with my uncle. He’s not actually Uktena like me - he married into the family….. But he left when I was still going through school. So, to answer your question….. Everyone’s pretty much gone. Except for me. I’m going off what I’ve learned from my Granddad over the years. I’m going off my own….research. I’m taking it one day at a time, because sometimes…..it’s really all you can do.”

I slink back into my seat. I begin picking at a hangnail that’s formed on the side of my thumb. It’s crazy how little I knew my family, despite the amount of rich history that I have to carry on. I can barely remember what my dad’s voice sounded like. I don’t know what my mom used to cook for me as a toddler. I know my Aunt died before I went into high school, hence why I was stuck alone with my Uncle for so long. But even then, I can’t recall many details about her. And I thought she was a great witch. It was she who helped me repair the shop after Granddad left. It was she who taught me how to act financially smart. 

It’s horrible what trauma can do to you, and what it makes you forget.

“Jesus, Toni. I’m sorry.” Munroe sounds remorseful when he fills in our silence. I put back on a happier face mask for him, and I shake my head, telling him to not worry so much about it. That doesn’t stop him from saying, “Family’s important, though. But family doesn’t have to be just blood. Have you….have you told your own crew about this?”

Another stunning question. I have to reflect more on this one. The boys knew vaguely of what was going on with me, but did I really open up to them? Did I go to Fangs for advice on how to care for ill family? To Sweet Pea on handling my Uncle? To Joaquin, for anything at all? 

“No.” I finally admit to him. “I’ve kept this to myself. I wanted to reach out, but….”

Something from the other side of the room captures my attention. Muttering. I fear that it’s Penny tormenting the group, but when I bring my eyes to the source of the noise, that fear goes away. It’s traded for….astonishment. And disbelief. Nancy returns into the room, pointing in my direction. “She’s in here.” she tells a person. Who? Somebody for me? The group? I’m caught in the anticipation like I’m stuck watching a horror movie victim waiting for the killer to go after them in the climax. Munroe looks my way as well, and he starts laughing. I don’t get it. Who did Nancy leave the room for? She allows the stranger to enter through the makeshift entryway. The room goes quiet. Except for me.

“Joaquin?”

“Uh….hey, Tee.” Joaquin smirks and gives me a shortened wave. I race over to him, wanting to drag him out of this room, away from the gossipers. Away from Penny. I’m tempted to raise my voice, but I don’t want to draw unnecessary attention from the room. So, in a hushed whisper, I chew Joaquin out.

“What the hell are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to leave the trailer park!”

“Well, I couldn’t just sit on my ass and twiddle my thumbs while I waited for my death sentence.” he protests. He shoves his hands into his pockets and sighs. “You’ve got something good happening, Toni. I mean….shit, Nancy was filling me in on your meeting with the Mayor. You’re crazy if you think I’m not jumping in and getting some skin in the game.” 

Nancy bites her lip, pointing at Joaquin while keeping her sights on me. “We’ve….actually been texting back and forth through most of the day about it. After everything you told me about your crew, Toni….” She stops, looking over at Joaquin. I’m curious to read her mind, to learn what she planned out with Joaquin, but she’s quick to fill in the blank silence. “Why don’t you actually tell her, Joaquin?”

He smiles. Okay….what is going on here? And what does this have to do with MY crew?

Before I can ask, Joaquin turns back to me. “I’m tired of not getting up and doing the right thing. You’ve done enough of it on your own, Tee. After everything you’ve done for us, it’s only fair that we do the same for you.” My brain slowly connects whatever little jigsaw puzzle pieces I have together. Surely, he’s just referring to himself and Nancy, right? Maybe Fangs too? No….it’s too much of a stretch. I don’t even think Sweet Pea knows of the current events with his basketball schedule. I haven’t even seen him in person since we all graduated! But what were the odds of me running into Fangs yesterday? Of finding Joaquin having escaped from that massacre?

Fate has a strange way of bringing people together. What Joaquin ran from only happened to be connected to Alice’s situation. But Fangs didn’t just leave that religious group for a reason. And I didn’t happen to just meet Nancy…. Then how would…. Does that mean….

Joaquin grins. “Besides, I really hope I didn’t just waste the rest of my brain cells, and Fangs with his money, to catch Sweet Pea up on everything.”

It all finally sinks in. Nancy smiles and nods her head. Joaquin gestures to the room beyond the curtain. My eyes go big.

“ **WHAT?** ”

I push my way past Joaquin, sending that curtain wide open, about ready to march out into the main area. I stop dead in my tracks, unable to process…. No, what I’m seeing….who I’m seeing is as bright as if it were still day.

Fangs sits on top of one of the reclining chairs, waving at me. “Hi, Toni!” 

Across the way, Sweet Pea, in all of his tall, lanky glory, rises when he sees me walk in. The shit-eating grin on his face grows. “THERE’S OUR LITTLE ACTIVIST!”

I’m smacked in the face with a multitude of emotions. My crew is back! Joaquin, Fangs, and Sweet Pea are all here! FOR ME! With tears streaming down my face, and my lungs getting sore from screaming, I race over to Sweet Pea and Fangs. The taller of my friends practically lifts me into the air when I leap into his arms, swinging me around until we both get dizzy. I’m set back down onto the floor and pulled into another bear hug.

“How are you….how did you even….”

“I was gonna come back anyway for the holidays.” he explains, holding me at arms length. He gestures behind me over to Fangs, “But he got talking about this shit, and I thought….why not cause a little trouble while I’m home?” I glance over just in time to catch Joaquin meandering over to Fangs. He clears his throat and raises his brows. Sweet Pea continues, “Oh, right. And….we all wanted to help with your group. Saw your speech, by the way. You kicked ass up there!”

“One of the protesters recorded your speech and put it on social media.” Fangs explains when I look back at him. Joaquin proceeds to pull out his phone. He flips out the screen to me. I glare down at a video someone’s shared on Facebook. It’s me at the gazebo making my speech. The number of likes and shares are….I’m at a loss of words. I’m still glaring at the phone as Fangs concludes his point. “They want to know more about you, Tee. They….people are growing interest in what you and Nancy are doing. We’re being seen. YOU are being seen.”

My eyes get wet. While I can barely hear the audio, I know the words leaving my mouth on that screen. I finally see myself through the lens of the world. I glance over at the growing number of shares. The different emojis making up how people are reacting. A terrifying thought comes to me. Will the secrecy of the Uktena’s legacy unravel because of my speech? Will my promise to Sierra McCoy be broken?

“You’re not going into this alone, Tee. We’re with you all the way.” Joaquin addresses me as he puts the phone away. I find Nancy coming over to our little group, standing between me and Joaquin. “Even if one of us winds up in jail, or….probably just me with my shit.”

“Nah, it will most likely be me.” Sweet Pea jokes, earning him glares from Joaquin and Nancy, and an elbow to the ribs from Fangs.

“Point being….” Fangs picks up, “You’ve done too much for us over the years, and we owe it to you. For real. Let us help you out. Okay, Tee?”

I lock eyes with Nancy. I feel her fingers slip into mine. It takes a good amount of strength to not go on blubbering like a baby in front of the boys. Appreciation blends with petrification. And failure. It’s daunting. I know I need to keep the Uktena and our work sacred. I have to keep it safe from the Reaper. But my crew is here, all of us. TOGETHER. And Nancy….where would I be without her? Without Alice or her team?

Granddad was never really one to make connections with others. He spread the word of the Uktena, yes, but maybe the reason he failed was because….because he saw no need to make those connections. To form unions and advocate for real change.

But that was Granddad’s way. I have to do better. And I will do better.

With my free hand, I use the knuckle on my thumb to clear the area under my eyes of any tears. I sniffle, allowing air to enter my lungs. Looking at each of the boys one by one, I nod. “Okay.”

  
  


XXXXXXXX

**SABRINA**

A swarm of teenagers enter the diner, yet none of them are Josie. Okay, it’s only a little bit before 8, so I should cut her some slack. But why am I the one getting nervous? The nervousness should go to Archie! More bodies come in for warmth, my knees bounce. What if this plan falls through? What if I have no other mode of redemption? Maybe I scared off Josie by suggesting to provide her with a back-up plan. Or maybe she took it as a joke and waved it off. Whatever the reason, time persists on at a rate not benefiting me. But I would rather be worrying about Archie and Josie than worrying over Jughead’s article, or his relationship with his dad, or V’s condition, or Ali and her mysterious connection to Hal Cooper. Or Salem.

I look back to Archie, glaring down at his hands on the table. We would have chosen a booth farther back, but we wanted Josie to see us, to not have to fight through a sea of people to get to us. Well, just Archie. I’ll be spying on from the sidelines while they talk. Besides, I might as well stick around. Archie will need every bit of confidence he can muster.

I thought my knee shaking was bad. Archie’s making the whole table rattle. “It’s almost 8, Archie. She should be here really soon.” I try to calm him down with my words. I glance back over to the front doors behind us. Nothing. Really soon might have been an overstatement.

“What if I flub up?” he stutters out. “I mean….what if I say the wrong thing or make a really stupid comment about music? That will make her walk away, won’t it?”

“She won’t, Archie. Stop kidding yourself!” I swing around to face him and lay my forearms on the table. “You know enough about music to not turn yourself into a fool. You were able to get some songs on the radio, right? And your dad also had a musical background!”

Archie scoffs. “Sabrina, Josie’s dad is a professional musician. He makes my dad look like a youngster who only received a participation trophy at the talent show.” He removes his arms from the table and leans back. He glances out the window, watching the rest of the world go by. What’s with this sudden doubt? I’ve heard Archie’s music! I don’t believe it falls under the category of anything amateur related! Will Josie think the same when she hears it? Will they come together at all? I would like to think so. I just need Archie to see that for himself.

Luckily, I know just the right spell for that.

Something outside catches his interest. Archie sits up straighter, then freezes. “Oh crap, she’s coming.” I whip my head out the window, my own anticipation building. Surely enough, Josie removed her earbuds as she makes her way into the diner.

I slide out of the booth in a hurry and address Archie. “I’ll let you two talk everything over. I’ll be over by the counter. You got this, Archie!” His mouth bobbles open and shut. I hear his inner voice screaming for me to wait, to check if he even is ready. I don’t respond to it with magic, or with more words of confirmation. My work here is done, for the most part. I just need to let Archie and Josie’s dynamic foster naturally.

The door chimes as Josie walks in. The girl I found crying in the girl’s bathroom is traded for someone more confident, yet more reluctant. Like she wants to close herself off from the world. Josie peers around the joint looking for me. When her head turns my way, I give her a simple wave and jog over to meet her.

“So, you have a back-up plan ready for me, new girl?” My heart beats rapidly. Now is not the time to wig out and run. I need to stay optimistic for both Archie and Josie. I need to be optimistic for myself. What other choices do I have?

“I think so!” I perk up. “And….and thank you for coming out, Josie. I hope I didn’t cause you to leave your….rehearsal.”

Josie rolls her eyes, smirking. “I’m always rehearsing. Bad habit, I guess.” She looks over my shoulders, then back behind her. “Okay….so, what exactly did you put together?”

I go to speak, but my tongue withers up. My throat goes dry. How can I get Archie acquainted with her now? To my surprise, and my relief, I don’t have to. Behind me, Archie slides out of the booth. It catches her attention, and mine. The corners of my mouth lift, I nod at him, signaling for him to go for it.

I step off to the side, watching as Archie wanders over to us, keeping his sights on Josie. His hands shake. His chest rises and falls. He brings his eyes down to the linoleum floor. I wonder if I should mutter that confidence spell now or wait until things fall sideways. No….I think I can hold off for right now, because when I look back over at Josie, she’s not weary of Archie’s presence. She’s….impressed. 

“I’ll be damned. Archie Andrews?” He looks back up at her in pure shock. She grins. “Yeah, I know who you are, Red. Always either on the football field or at the radio station trying to get your songs on.”

“Still trying….and failing.” he jokes. Okay, this is at least a good start. No nervous behaviors yet. But I should still be ready to mutter that spell, just in case.

Josie inches closer to him. I notice the fluorescent lights above us glimmer against her ponytail. “They’re idiots.” she comments about the radio station, “I mean, your music’s not all that terrible. Pretty decent songs.” 

Archie flushes. He laughs nervously and glances down at his feet again. I barely hear him mumble, “But yours are so much better.” Her eyes widen, I can’t tell if that signals for something good. Or bad.

Normally, I would want to stick around and play mediator, but I need to leave Archie to advocate for himself. I need Josie to know how much Archie cares, without me interfering. I scurry between the two of them, making my way over to the bar. “I’ll let you two talk. Can’t wait to hear what you’re planning for the Jubilee!” I shoot them both a thumbs up before I officially wander away.

I purposefully choose to sit at a seat farthest away so I don’t make it obvious I’m over hearing on their conversation. Little do they both know that my witchcraft still allows me to amplify their voices. I pretend to examine the contents on the placemat as I listen in.

“You don’t mind that Sabrina wrangled me into this plan, do you? Are….are you angry to see me?”

“To be honest, I’m not really all that surprised. I would have been if she had the whole cheer team throw on cat ears and leopard-print uniforms, singing in perfect harmony.” They both giggle at the comment. I allow myself to grin a little. “But….I don’t think I can think of any other musically inclined people at our school….” 

Her voice dies out. I glance up briefly, hoping that the dialogue won’t take a turn for the worst. It doesn’t. Josie tilts her head over to where Archie and I sat just minutes ago. Realizing that she’s waiting for him to guide her over, Archie leads them back over to the booth. He retakes his seat, and Josie takes mine. His hands shake again, this time much quicker. His lips tremble. I witness the movements like I’m watching an intense sports game. _Come on, Archie! Say something!_

“Trying to play Cupid?” a voice pulls me away from the scene. I look over to find Jughead’s mom leaning on the counter in front of me.

I shrug. “Just helping a few of my friends out, that’s all.”

“Poor thing gets worked up every time she walks into the diner. Freezes up.” she snorts. I glance back over at Archie, and just how Mrs. Jones described, he’s frozen staring at Josie. Before I can determine whether or not to go forward with my spell, Jughead’s mom taps me on the arm. “You want me to put your usual order in for you, sweetie? Or were you gonna wait for your Aunt to come around?” My focus shifts at the question. My thoughts race back to Ali, to everything going wrong in my life. Gunshots ring in my ear drums. Dark red liquid seeps into my brain. Chuck, Midge, and Rose Blossom pollute my vision. And Salem---

“I’ll take something now, Mrs. Jones.” I force myself to grin at the older woman, shoving the images out of my head. I watch her disappear into the kitchen before I bring my attention back to Archie and Josie. I can’t lose my concentration now. I shouldn’t act scared….well, maybe I should. It’s Archie who should get the boost of confidence.

I better act quick, because Josie asks, “Okay, your blonde friend recognizes how you can help me out this weekend. But I want to hear it from you. Why are YOU wanting to do this for me?” He’s petrified to answer. I can see the fear growing, more so than when Josie first walked in. I have to do this, NOW. 

When I check for a clear coast, I fake a sneeze. My hand goes over my upper lip as I duck my head. In a low voice, barely audible, I begin my chanting.

“ _Strength by day, strength by night, give him strength, give him might. Strength by day, strength by night, give him strength, give him might…_.”

Only visible to me, a hazy ripple goes through the air as I repeat my chanting over and over. The ripple reaches Archie, it enters into his eyes. The whites take over the entire eye socket, an effect only I can see. 

I repeat my chant one last time for good measure. “ _Strength by day, strength by night, give him strength, give him might!_ ” The whiteness and the rippling effect disappear. I see Archie’s eyes return to normal. The shaking ceases. The frozen posture is traded for one more relaxed. Good. I smile.

Patrons of the diner give me funny looks when I glance around my section of the diner. I play up my act and pretend to sneeze again. I shrug with my lips creating a semicircle. “Allergies.” I say in a polite tone, then I return to my eavesdropping position.

The spell has worked, at least from how I hear Archie currently speak to Josie. 

“Because you’ve worked too hard to lose it all now, Josie. You’re one of the best performers I’ve seen, like, ever. All of these deaths shouldn’t make you sacrifice what you love.”

I see Josie bow her head, watching how she curls her fingers inward. Archie’s expression softens when he sees her movements. Will she interpret his words as damning? Overstepping on her boundaries? My spell seems to work, but Archie will need to carry the rest of the conversation without my interference.

“Look,” he continues. “if you would rather take on the Jubilee by yourself because you’d feel more comfortable doing so, that’s fine. But….but if you are in need of any person being up on that stage with you, then let’s figure out how you give this town the best performance they’ve ever heard. For real. I know the Pussycats were everything to you. But, after everything that’s happened, Josie, you deserve to have your slate swiped clean.”

She lifts back up her head, pulling her fists closer to her. “I wish it were that easy, Red. I’ve had to go above and beyond just to get where I am. Jumped through way too many hurdles, mostly gender and racial.” She goes quiet. A moment passes by, then another. In between this silence, Jughead’s mom taps on my shoulder. She sets down a mug of black coffee in front of me. I mutter a quick thank you as she moves away, as I go to bring the cup to my mouth.

“My dad’s coming home for this Jubilee. Did your blonde friend tell you that?” The hot coffee almost comes back out of my mouth, burning my tongue. I force the sip down and redirect my attention to Archie and Josie. Is that why she severely panicked in the bathroom? She was not only worried about the death of her band, but also about her musician father attending? I should have known better! If I didn’t focus so much on my personal dilemmas, I could have picked up on the signs!

I watch Archie’s face plummet. “I….no. She didn’t.”

Josie leans back against her seat, glancing out the window. “He’s been my harshest critic, from the moment I laid a hand on his guitar. Everything I do for my musical career, he strikes down. I get that he’s more of a professional than me, but….” She stops for a moment. From my enhanced senses, I hear the faintest wince. I hear her voice break. “I remember a few years ago, when the Pussycats played for one of the Fourth of July celebrations….Dad sat five rows from the front of the stage. We had a good set list, I spent nearly a month preparing. Everyone loved what we put together….” She wraps her knuckles on top of the table. Slowly, she brings her head back to center. Her eyes back to Archie, she holds back frustrated sobs.

“Everybody but my old man. He didn’t have to say how disappointed he was when I finished - I could see the look on his face all that way back. He never really found the Pussycats as what could lead to my potential. But seeing his face just made it so much worse. It’s like I could hear him say, _You let me down, Josephine. I expected better of you._ ” I go for another sip but stop when Josie says this last part. Archie shares an equal look of somberous wonder. I didn’t know her actual name was Josephine - I always knew her as Josie. 

But I don’t hear my thoughts come out of Archie’s mouth. Instead, he asks, “Does you dad know….about your band?”

I watch her head shake. “Mom said to leave the bearing of bad news to her. She didn’t want me to worry about telling Dad, only to worry about my performance. It just….it just doesn’t help that she and Dad aren’t exactly on the best terms. Not since he left following rehab. And now that my mom’s resigning, I….” Her head droops again. She lifts a hand up to wipe away tears. “I just don’t want to hear it out of him. I don’t want him to rub it in my face that Mom and I failed, again. I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m alone.”

And I thought I had it bad back at home. I can’t fathom how Josie wears a brave face each day. How she goes on without letting her father’s words destroy her mental stamina. It’s heartbreaking. Could her situation grow worse with Salem killing and taking away Riverdale’s sense of safety? I’m not sure, but I want to do everything I can to make sure she doesn’t fall victim to Salem’s treachery. Even if I just play the role of Fairy Godmother on the sidelines.

I see Archie slide forward, resting his arms on the table. He catches Josie’s attention. “Hey, you’re not alone.”

“I am.” she laments to him. “I have to keep it together while my Mom prepares to step down from office, because she’s stressing out. And I’m running out of time to finalize my act for the Jubilee. Maybe my Dad was right. All I’m doing is wasting my time and letting him down.”

Archie sits on her words for a moment, the confidence starting to fade. Is the spell wearing off? Should I go back into chanting and send him another wave? What do I do? As I sip on more coffee and prepare for my second round, Archie regains his stance. His shoulders roll back. He takes a deep breath.

“No, you won’t. Because…. Because I’ll do it.”

My mouth hangs. The coffee cup almost slips out of my hands. I want to celebrate - Archie did it! He offered his own services! But I can’t jump on the celebration quite yet. Josie needs to accept it, and I don’t know if she will.

I hear her sigh. “What, convince Valerie and Melody to move back and perform with me on Friday?” The initial theory she throws out does not stay long. She relaxes when she finally realizes what Archie is saying. “You’re being serious?”

“You shouldn’t have to fear going up there alone, Josie. You shouldn’t have to feel like you’re on Mars. Trust me, I get how freaky it feels. No one has taken my passion for music seriously, and it sucks.”

“Yeah.” She allows herself to laugh a little. 

A moment later, Archie says, “So….if you’re willing, and….if you still feel lonely….maybe I can help. Maybe I can help you feel a little less alone. Only if you want me to.” I spy a grin forming on his face. I wait for him to make his next move, for how Josie will go forward with this back-up plan. Will she take him up on it? Or what if….what if all of Archie’s efforts fail?

Josie’s head bobs. Even speaking quietly, her tone of voice lifts. “Okay.”

Euphoria hits Archie, just as much as it hits me. I watch his grin light up brighter than a Christmas tree. He mutters something back to her, I would pay attention but I’m caught up in my relief. And my accomplishment.

I’m about ready to scream for joy, then I remember the others in their booths. Without wanting to make a scene, or to draw attention from Archie and Josie, I politely slide off my stool, sweetly smile at folks as I go to a hidden corner by the end of the counter. Pop Tate has a phone booth area where teenagers usually go to make-out, or where older patrons make phone calls to loved ones. Tonight, it’s my little sanctuary so I may squeal in utter excitement - only after I slide in and shut the little folding door. I practically jump in my place, pinching my eyes close to my mouth, my fists bouncing with joy. So what if I look ridiculous? I was able to help out Archie, AND Josie! If only Aunties and Ambrose could see me now!

Eventually, I come back down to Earth and exit the phone booth. I’m still in high spirits, so I do a quick little spin on the balls of my feet, shaking my hands in excitement. I land back where I started, only to find a familiar face staring at me in bewilderment.

My jaw drops. My words come out rushed. “MISTER LODGE.”

“Uh…. Hi, Sabrina.” He adds a chuckle at the end for good measure. We remain awkwardly silent for a moment or two until he fights to remove the scarf around his neck. I rush back over to my seat, almost falling off the moment I collide with the cushiony part. Mister Lodge points to the seat next to me, raising a brow. With a hurry, I gesture for him to join me. As he sits, I lean out to check on Archie and Josie. They’re already working on a game plan for the Jubilee, or maybe they’re determining what to get from here. Either way, they’re blissfully at peace with each other. I smile.

I notice Mister Lodge turning to Archie and Josie as well. When he returns to his original stance, a smirk forms on his face. “Mister Andrews seems to be in a good mood over there.” The tone of his voice attempts to come off as wishing well, but…. I’m picking up on displeasement. Scorn.

“You don’t like Archie, do you?” I throw at V’s father. He looks at me, losing the harsher element for one more guilty. He gives me a disappointed grin.

“If I’m speaking honestly with you, Miss Spellman,” he mutters, “I never got along with Archie’s father. We had a….bit of a rivalry back in the day. Especially when it came to Veronica’s mother.” Wow. That was something I didn’t expect. Archie’s dad dated V’s mom? I would let my mouth hang, but I don’t want to be rude, so I remain neutral while Mister Lodge goes on explaining his bitterness towards Archie. “But lately, I have gained more respect for the younger Mister Andrews. While I did become weary over how the boy would behave around Veronica, he’s proven himself to be a good young man.”

That’s a relief to hear. I relax a bit, leaning back out again to check on the status. One of the waitresses comes over to the table, Archie and Josie both try to place orders at the same time and wind up laughing. He ends up giving orders for both of them, she gives him a bashful thank you.

Mister Lodge begins to grow curious. “I must say, Archie’s acting rather quite confident there with the Mayor’s daughter. A little…. _too confident_ , if I may add.” He throws up his brow. Uh oh. He must have figured out I used the confidence spell! Okay, well it’s a bit obvious that Archie’s not fumbling on his words around Josie, but how else could Mister Lodge have known?

I scan around the diner nervously, then I turn back to Mister Lodge. I whisper, “Don’t tell Aunt Ali. Please! I know we’re not supposed to expose our craft, but it was kind of an emergency---”

He laughs, throwing me off guard. He says, “I’m only kidding, Miss Spellman. I had to use that spell on myself once, just so I could ask out Veronica’s mother back in high school. So…” He brings his thumb and pointer fingers together across his mouth, then flicks an imaginary object off the edge of his fingertips. In a silent way, he says, _Your secret’s safe with me._ I lift my thumb up to him and grin.

Mister Lodge proceeds to look around the kitchen area, beyond our counter space, around the diner. I don’t expect his tone of voice to mellow out when he asks, “Speaking of your Aunt….is she in here right now? Or somewhere in the back?”

My good mood fades away. Thinking about Ali again makes the black coffee burn holes in my stomach. Now that he’s proposed the question, I have to wonder why Ali isn’t here as well. I glance around the place. I thought she’d be here - wasn’t she working all day? Maybe she’s back at the trailer park, or out running errands, or watching after Jughead’s sister. 

Or maybe she’s avoiding having to speak with me about her life, and about Hal Cooper. The way I may be avoiding telling her about the Conway House, Salem, and my involvement in the recent---

“Not sure.” I choke out, forcing the lump down my throat. “Haven’t seen her at all today, actually. She left before I woke up.” Embarrassed now, I grab for my coffee cup, purposefully taking a long sip to spare myself of the thoughts wanting to reach my tongue. I’d rather burn it again than admit to engaging in this sudden anger towards a lifelong friend. Mister Lodge doesn’t question my response. He accepts it with a sullen shrug. I reward myself by welcoming the bitter drink down my throat. I examine the diner once again, in solitude with our silence. Would I want to have that talk with her tonight? Will she even be ready when she comes? Is she even coming? No….no, I can’t see any sign of her that remains in this diner. Which is strange, because I can feel her---

Muffled voices come from outside the diner. Angry and yelling. Two of them. One’s a male, I can’t tell who it is, but the aura is familiar. The other…. I turn my head to the door. A figure in a woman’s body stands on the steps, back to the door. Her dark blonde glimmers through the glass. Her aura is the way I’ve always known it, but at once, it’s changed. It’s more full of emotion. It’s a new side that has awakened. The other voice pipes up, now making its aura manifest to one I can recognize.

“Sabrina? Mister Lodge calls to me. He brings his attention to where I look out. He adopts a look of confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“Why is Ali fighting with Mister Keller outside?”

  
  


XXXXXXXX

**ALICE**

The car ride over to Pop’s is awkwardly silent for a good amount of time. It doesn’t take that long to get to Pop’s from where Tom found me, it’s faster than going by foot. But the first few minutes of us in this car is filled with no noise. Just the A/C blowing warm air on me and static coming from the radio. I’m just thankful Tom’s decent on the roads, he shows no signs of road rage. But he has a weird tendency to fumble with the knobs on his dashboard. 

I don’t mind the silence after a while. It keeps me in a state of peace, or just a state of not-sheer panic. I keep my cheek pressed to the window, my arm sitting on the ledge. The roads are empty tonight. All that occupies these streets is new fallen snow. My breath fogs up the window. I’m tempted to leave a design, but I don’t want Tom to get weirded out. So, I only let the action occur in my brain. I imagine my fingers tracing the initials I have on my wrist. I imagine drawing the sigil Hiram made for me. The thought causes my heart to flutter, my eyes to mist up. I inhale, pushing the thought away.

“Here, you want me to put on the radio?” he asks. I look away from the moving scene out to our current location. Tom stops at a red light, looking at me for an answer. I don’t say anything to him. I let my chin bob once, then twice, indicating a yes. I allow my head to tilt back where it originally sat. I hear Tom mess around with the stations until he lands on the end of a song. One I know, and one I heard recently.

Morrissey’s vocals straightens my back. The guitar riffs turn my hands into fists. The song’s nearing the end, but I’m trapped none of the less. Images of Hal calling us godlike, Ambrose dancing around in the Spellman’s home, and Darryl Doiley’s bloodied corpse seep into my brain. It’s taking my leftover courage to not vomit all over the dashboard. My nails dig into my palms, clinging on for life.

“Not a fan of The Smiths, I take it?” Tom interrupts my panic attack. I force myself into doing Daisies and Candles to appear normal. I look in his direction, gulping back whatever has built up in my throat. Then, I lift the corners of my mouth.

“I’ve….heard better songs by them.” My voice comes out like a toad’s, I’m rather embarrassed. Just my luck, the radio brings the song to an end, the announcer going on another rant. I sigh in relief, allowing my nails to stop digging into my palms. Still, the pain causes my nerves to go haywire. My eyes sting with potential tears. But I won’t let Tom Keller see me break. Or at least I won’t give him the pleasure of watching “Wendy” break.

Is that why I’m in this car with him? The question runs through my mind as I watch Tom react to the light turning green. Has he caught onto the fact that I’m lying about my identity, or that Hiram and I are involved in a dangerous quest to save this damn place? Whatever motives Tom Keller may have, it opens the floodgate of my anxiety. 

**_Are you afraid, baby?_ **

Hal’s voice echoes in my eardrums, his laughter draping over me like velvet. I quietly chuckle to myself, masquerading what could be another fit of hysteria. More than anything, I want to swap out that sinister voice for one that does bring me comfort. For one that is loving towards me. I think of how Hiram goes into his rhythm when speaking Blue. I think of the vow he gave me. Despite all the effort, Hal still finds a way to shove out the good memories. He always wins. 

Morrissey’s right about one thing in that song - I’m not happy, and I’m not sad.

The radio announcer introduces the next song, but I don’t hear the title due to my sudden dissociation. The guitar’s fast yet mellow pace is warming. I allow myself to relax, to smile. I recognize the song even before Mama Cass and Michelle Phillips begin singing. I know this isn’t originally their song, it’s a cover, but I think it’s their best performance. The harmonizing is atmospheric. The lyrics….they begin to resonate with my life. The smile on my face disappears. Listening to the first part of the lyrics reinforces my current situation with Sabrina, and the skeletons we both have to drag out of the closet.

_I know it's hard for you, my baby_

_Because it's hard for me, my baby_

Will Sabrina at the diner when Tom and I arrive? Will she be willing to hear me out? I still haven’t worked out a confession of any kind. I’ve been so caught up dealing with caring for the Joneses, and checking up on Toni and her friend. And my discovery of Hiram and his….. It’s odd. I was able to explain my past to strangers. What is it about Sabrina that causes my throat to swell up and for my story to cling to my brain? I glance over at Tom. I wonder how he’d react if I revealed myself to him? Would he handle the news in the same fashion as FP? I mean, Tom’s been picking up something about me for weeks. There had to be a reason he recognized my face the day he came by the trailer. Or why he let me go when I could have easily been arrested on more than one account.

The parking lot of the diner comes into view. Tom goes over a pothole leading into the area, making the car jerk around. As Tom finds a free spot, I scan the inside of the diner for any signs of either Sabrina or Hiram. Kids around her age fill in the booths. I find Gladys refilling a patron’s glass of water. At one end of the diner, I find Fred Andrew’s boy rising out of his booth. I watch the red-haired boy getting soft at….is that Sierra Samuels’s girl? They look content in each other’s company. It reminds me so much of Fred and….

A set of short blonde hair floats over to the bar counter, over to where Gladys messes with the coffee machine. Her red coat glows under the fluorescent lights. She keeps her eyes on Fred and Sierra’s children. She has no idea I’m out here watching the smile appear on her face. Wondering if my relationship with her will be the same as it was before we came to town. Then again, if I just told her of Hal the night I hit that deer, I wouldn’t have been reunited with FP and befriended his wife and daughter. I wouldn’t have met Toni. I would never know of Hiram’s affection.

_I could be satisfied knowing you love me_

The car radio gets cut off. I jump in my seat at the absence of noise. Tom keeps his gaze out the windshield, out to where you can look into the kitchen area. I half contemplate on getting out of the car and walking into the diner, but I stay put. Tom’s hands jitter, I’m worried he’s going to rip out the steering wheel. It takes a while before he can look back over at me.

“So, is Pop keeping you busy?” I find it difficult to not snicker at him. To be nice, I give him a short little nod. I lean back against the seat. My eyes go to Sabrina by the counter. Gladys checks in on her briefly, then walks away. The young blonde glances around the place nervously. Is she waiting for me? Does she not recognize that I’m outside the diner, waiting for the right moment to a man who….

**_Your eyes are just….well, your whole face really…. Part of me feels like I’ve seen you before._ **

I watch how Tom removes his hands from the wheel, violently trembling. I know I can leave whenever I want. I’m not bound to stay in this car forever. He’s not clinging onto me against my will. But the little voice in the back of my head glues me to this seat. The little warning echoing inside.

I think Tom is catching onto the fact something isn’t right about me, or Sabrina. He’s no longer falling for our innocent act. 

Tom’s voice comes out like a whisper. “I’m not….I’m not trying to be a creep, Wendy. I know you've got things to do. And….damn it, I should have confronted you about this earlier. It’s my fault, I’ve been held up with my resignation, and training the kid replacing me. So…..I’ll make this quick. For both of us.”

My fingers curl inward to my palms. My knuckles glow white. My teeth grit in a straight line. The beating organ in between my lungs pounds faster. This is my chance - I can protect myself with a fast spell. I can sucker punch him, free myself, and run into the diner to grab help. I can call for Sabrina and Gladys for their assistance. Or….

Or I can own up to my lies. I’ve done it enough to Sabrina and everyone else in town. I have to remind myself that Tom Keller is one of the good ones. He was a friendly face back in the day who showed me nothing but kindness. He gifted me with respect. I’d be dishonoring that respect if I kept lying to him, if he really is fitting the pieces together. Besides, I do need more allies in this bloody fight with Hal. One more person to hold me accountable. One more line of defense. As much as my inner teenage self would rather say _Screw It_ and leave Tom wondering, what good would it continue to do me? I unclench one of my fists, bringing the flexed hand over my heart. I listen to the younger Alice Smith weep, begging for me to run. I comfort the inner Alice Smith, telling her to rest for just a while longer while I clean up the mess for us. I set that young girl inside myself back to sleep, and brace myself for what I must do next.

No more secrets, no more lies.

“Tom, my name isn’t actually Wen---”

“Come to the Jubilee with me.”

My jaw goes stiff, leaving it wide open. I glare over at the man beside me. Did I just…. Did Tom Keller…. I bring my gaze back out to the windshield. I’m flabbergasted. I don’t know what to make of this. And….I’m kind of relieved that it wasn't about my identity. But….but….

What the actual fuck?

My mouth forms the word “Wow”, leaving it before I can stop myself. Tom looks over at me, ready to ask, “Wait….wait, what were you saying about your---”

I cut him off, facing him head on. “You….are you trying to ask me out?” Tom clamps his mouth shut. I see his teeth line edge out underneath his flesh. He’s almost ready to make his knuckles pop out of his fists. Now I have to question how long he’s been waiting to ask me. To get me alone so he can….

Tom flexes out his hands, loosening his jaw. He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. Then, he nods. “Yes. I am, Wendy…..or….or, whatever your name actually is.” He brings his hands down onto his lap for a brief moment, huffing. A moment passes, I wonder if I should speak now or wait for him to go on. Eventually, a hand grabs for my own.

“Look, I don’t care. I….I figured the moment I saw you, that you must have been….on the run or something. Bad lover. Messed up family. Probably why you’ve got Sabrina. But….but, Wendy, I don’t care about any of that. If I was still in my position, yeah, but not anymore. You’re a wonderful woman. You’re kind to the guests in that diner, and you’ve done good by Sabrina. I need someone like that, Wendy. I do.” The last of his words throw me for a bit of a loop. Someone like that…. Is he no longer with his wife, assuming he did? If so, how did it…. No, that doesn’t matter. Then what can I make of it, then? How do I even respond to this confession?

I listen to him continue, running his thumb across my knuckles. “I like you, a lot. I want this Jubilee to be a chance for us to become closer. It doesn’t matter what your real name is, or where you came from. I’ll know over time, I know it. But know that you can trust me, Wendy. I want you to trust me. I want you….I need you….to know exactly what it is you mean to me.”

My tongue dries up. I….I don’t know what to say. I’m flattered, but…. In another time, in another place, I would consider Tom. I know he’s caring. He would treat me and Sabrina well. I know he would…. It’s a wonderful offer. I could enjoy going to the Jubilee with him. It is a very strong possibility. But when I look into my future, when I see the life I want to craft for myself…. 

No matter how much I want to fool myself into giving Tom Keller a chance, I can’t. Not because I don’t want to, but because, when I see my future…. I don’t see it with him.

Tom brings that hand up to my chin. He lifts it up so I’m looking at him, straight into his eyes. My heart clenches. He takes a moment to study me. To pick up on my body cues. To see if I accept his offer, or reject it all together. I’m motionless, so I can’t make my confliction obvious. No….no, it’s not confliction. It is rejection.

He leans in. I press my free hand into his chest. His mouth is just an inch from mine. Any more, and I could have been kissed for the first time in years. But I keep him there, feeling his breath cover my skin. I shut my eyes. I have to be gentle. Besides, it might be good practice if I have to do the same with Hiram.

_Daisies and candles, Alice. Be easy, but be honest._

I speak. “It’s kind of you, Tom. Really. It….it’s just….”

“Don’t, Wendy. I know.” Tom huffs, purely in sorrow. He backs away, leaning more into his seat. His grip on my hand loosens. “There’s someone else.” A bitter taste forms in my mouth. I chew on my tongue, unsure of where to take his comment. Is he referring to Hiram? Another mysterious being? Does he remember Hal after all?

I consider my relationships, going through each one like they’re yellow pages. I swallow down the acidic build up in my lungs. “There’s not. I just _can’t_.”

“You can’t go, at all? Or….you can’t go with me?” he spits the question out. It feels like a smack in the face. I’m crazy. I have a person asking me out since high school, and not as a joke. And here I am, turning down the offer. What the heaven is wrong with me? Either I’m still clinging to my anti-relationships behavior after my time with Hal, or I…. I….

“Does it matter, Tom?” I snap back at him.

“It DOES.” he bites. He goes to dig his nails into the steering wheel, then decides against it. Instead, he takes a deep breath, then turns to me. “Look, I get if it’s nerves, or time commitment. But….but whatever it is you have going on Wendy….” He goes to make his point, but at this point, I can’t listen to it anymore. It’s not because I’m intentionally fazing out on him. It’s because….because something has caught my attention.

A figure climbs out of an expensive vehicle. He fights with the yellow scarf around his neck, moving to instead rub his palms together for warmth. He skirts up the staircase, walking straight into the diner. Even from this far away, Hiram’s presence comforts me. It reassures me that no matter what I decide, I have him. And I know what I mean to him. I smile, watching his figure disappear into the warmth of the diner.

He made an offer to me too. His proposal to bring me to the Jubilee was not as straightforward, or aggressive. He understood my boundaries. He knew of…. He knows. He knows that I might not make it in this battle. He’s not wanting to set up a date knowing that it may very well be my last, maybe because he thinks I don’t want it. Even though I do.

I feel my eyes water. I feel myself smile. I may need more time to figure it all out, but for the most part…. I know now what Hiram means to me.

“Wendy? Wendy!” Tom calls out to me. “So, what’s the deal? Why can’t you go?”

I rotate my head in his direction. My smile grows. My eyes light up, boosting my confidence. I laugh. “It’s because I’m going with Hiram Lodge.”

Tom goes into a state of shock. His hand lifts off mine. Finally free, I slide closer to the car door, slipping my hand through the little handle. I yank at it, letting the cold breeze embrace me. I keep my eyes trained on the entrance to Pop’s, spotting Hiram at the bar counter next to Sabrina. My shoulders roll back. The injuries on my arm and my thigh are nothing. I feel weightless. The world finally starts to spin in the right direction, guiding me towards the right path.

Behind me, a voice shouts my fake name. Tom slams his car door shut, out of breath. He races around the front of his car. He goes to reach for me, but stops. He lifts one hand into the air, looking all stern. “Wendy, I’m confused.”

I scrunch my face together, not willing to exploit any more of my eye rolls or my stand-off-ish attitude for him. I glance at Hiram inside then back at Tom. “What exactly is there to be confused about? Hiram asked me first. End of story.” I go to walk away, making up the first couple of steps of the entryway. This time around, Tom does grab me by the arm. My happiness is traded for annoyance. For anger. I could lash out the same way I did to Hiram the night Hal got freed. I could do it, right here. But I can’t. Not in front of Tom Keller. It’s too fragile. But my anger remains on that pedestal, ready to teeter off if he makes one more comment about his emotions towards Hiram.

“You can’t….not after everything that I---”

That is what leads me to explode.

“THAT YOU WHAT?” I whip around violently at Tom, yanking my arm free. I remain on my step, towering over the man below me. I bring my hands close to my head, letting them hover in that area. My fingers curl in, then back out. I have to keep it under control, but…. Screw it. I’m done with everyone in Riverdale treating Hiram like garbage. I’m done with the rumors circulating about his lifestyle and Veronica. I’m tired of people making him out to be a monster. He’s not the one Riverdale should be persecuting. But Tom will never believe it. He will now. 

Tom goes to speak, but I dominate the course of events. I don’t stop my rage. I welcome the fire hidden under my emotions.

“I’m aware of your warnings against Hiram. **_Everyone has told me_ **. But have you even given him a chance to adapt to your world? Did you, or anyone else, welcome him with open arms? NO. You saw what you believed was a devil in sheep’s clothing. But I don’t, Tom. I see him for what he really is - a gentleman. He’s treated me with nothing but kindness since Sabrina and I came to Riverdale. He’s loyal, and trustworthy, and…..and I’m done with you bashing him! Do you hear me, Tom? WHATEVER SUSPICIONS YOU HAVE OF HIM, WHATEVER YOU THINK HE’S INVOLVED IN, I SUGGEST YOU KEEP THOSE OPINIONS TO YOUR DAMN SELF. BECAUSE WHATEVER ILLUSION YOU HAVE THAT YOU’RE GOING TO PROTECT ME, IT WON’T DO JACK FUCKING SHIT. THAT’S NOT YOUR PROTECTING ME. IT’S YOU BEING AN OVERBEARING ASSHOLE.”

The parking lot goes dead quiet. A few patrons that have hung around the area glare at me in wonder. Mostly baffled, all of them anticipating my next jab. Some have their phones out, recording the affair. I could give a shit at this point. I’ve made my case to the former Sheriff. I’ve expressed how I feel. Even if Hiram didn’t hear it from inside the diner, he’ll find out one way or another. This doesn’t frighten me. And I don’t compare myself to Hal. In fact, it makes me giddy.

Hal would attack for the sake of attacking. I’m doing it to protect the one I adore.

I put on a malicious smile, exposing my teeth as if I were about to eat my prey. “So, to answer your question, Tom, I will **_not_ ** go with you. And I **_very_ ** much plan to enjoy being in the company of someone….who in every way you’re not…..is a real man.”

A stab in the heart. Tom stumbles back. He’s wounded, but still on the defense. But my words have slowed him down. Good. Mitigating my aggressive stance, I turn on my heel and make my way inside. I push the door open, lifting my chin high. The patrons inside all face me, wondering what on earth just went down between me and the former Sheriff Keller. But it’s not their reactions I’m searching for. The one I want is from the man, waiting for me at the bar. He’s speechless when I slink over to him and Sabrina. And she’s just as much in a daze. I spy Hiram lifting his mouth to form a U shape. I’ve got him. He goes to speak, but Sabrina is the one that beats both of us.

“What just happened out there, Ali?”

The moment’s broken. I face Sabrina, unsure of how to answer her. The words are clear in my brain, but I can’t make them roll off my tongue. Again, I’m not giving her a response. I’m continuing to stay silent around her. 

Growing frustrated, Sabrina hops off her barstool, grabbing her coat from the seat next to her. “You know what, I don’t really want to know. I….I have to go check on my friends. Let me know when you’re ready to leave. And when you’re _really_ ready to talk.”

She walks by me, not offering a grin, or a hug. This time, I’m the wounded one. I can barely rotate my head to watch her go. I was so caught up dealing with Tom Keller and my upbeat anticipation of the Jubilee with Hiram that I forgot to work out my talk with Sabrina. What did I do? How could I have acted so selfishly?

I’m about to have a breakdown when Hiram places a hand on my forearm, my injured one. His touch soothes me. I breathe in, forcing back the unwanted emotions. I hear him say, “Give her time, Alice. She still cares about you, there’s no denying that.” My lips are glued together. I force them upward, giving Hiram a mournful grin. I mutter back to him that I know. At least I think I do. I just hope she does by the time she goes home. IF she does go home.

It hits me that both our futures are still up in the air. Hilda and Zelda have still not contacted me back since Thanksgiving regarding their niece. And I may run into trouble getting myself back up to speed at the bakery. But do I really want to go back to that life….that illusion I made for myself? Do I want to go back into hiding again?

Experience tells me, _Yes, leave and don’t come back_ . My heart tells me, _Do what you think is best for you_. And right now, the best thing for me is to mend my relationship with Sabrina, and to figure out exactly how I want to go forward with Hiram.

As if on cue, Tom storms into the diner. He glares at me with red eyes, then heads over to the other side of the bar counter space, opposite of us. Hiram watches the other man before he returns to me. “So….what exactly happened between you and Keller?”

I pause for a moment, phrasing my answer correctly in my head. I can do this. Feeling that giddiness return, I grin. “I….told him the truth.” Hiram’s eyes flare up. OH. Does he think…. I immediately jump in before he can start asking questions, rushing through my words, “THAT I’M GOING TO THE JUBILEE WITH YOU.” 

His expression softens, the bulging eyes mellowing, the tightness of his face relaxing. I can’t tell if he’s baffled at what I said, or amused. Or upset. Perhaps I accepted his invitation too late. Maybe he’s deciding to go with his daughter instead because I waffled on a response. OR maybe he won’t go at all, fearing that it may not be safe. Whatever is running through his brain, I feel like I’ve done something hurtful.

I look down at the floor for a second before looking back up at him. I squeeze my eyes shut, getting anxious by the minute. I feel my heartbeat quicken as I stumble on my words. “I….I get if you don’t want to complicate things between us. And I know you said that I didn’t have to make a decision. But….but I didn’t want to be a jerk, and….and you deserve to go out and have a good night, and---”

Something grabs for my hands. I choke up, hearing my breath hitch. I force my eyes open, looking down to find Hiram gently supporting them. My eyes wander up, searching for his face. He smiles, no longer afraid to be vulnerable around me.

His answer barely comes out as a whisper. “It would be an honor to take you.”

Tears come down my cheeks. I’ve overcome with gratitude and appreciation. The multilayered ness of everything I’ve felt since Hiram made that vow for me returns. And from the look on his face, I can tell he’s going through it as well. I could pull him closer to me and wrap my arms around him, absorbing him. I could take him away with me and leave the world behind. Above all of this, I could…. I could kiss him. In front of everyone in this diner. In front of Sabrina, and Gladys, and Tom Keller. And for hell’s sake, with Hal nearby. I could kiss Hiram and become lost in him forever.

But for now, I stay where I am, wrapping my fingers around his, squeezing them tight. I don’t have to figure it all out right now. And I think that’s what makes me adore Hiram. There is no rush to the finish line for us. We go about life at our pace. We don’t do things conventionally. I like that.

“Heya, Lizzie Bennet and Darcy.” Gladys’s voice interjects on our solitude. I know I said my eye rolls would not be exploited, but I make an exception for my neighbor. I send one her way, which earns me a smirk. “You placing an order to go, or are you staying in?”

I glance back at the kitchen space behind her. Shit. I forgot I had to work on the pies. But….I don’t HAVE to do it at this very moment. Besides, I don’t feel like being here while Tom’s recovering from my jabs, and while Sabrina is…. I don’t know yet. Without a clear answer, I look back to Hiram, shrugging at him.

“I can wait a little bit, if you’re fine with that.”

He grins at me. Then, he replies for both of us, “We’ll take it to go. I need to order for my daughter anyway.”

“So, your usual caviar dumped keto burger and then some?” Hiram scowls at Gladys, not amused with her sarcastic remark. She cackles, “OH MY GOD, LODGE. I’m kidding. I’ll put your orders in with Pop, okay?” Gladys begins to meander away, winking at me and sticking her thumb up in the air. 

My cheeks glow red as I bite my lower lip. Eventually, I wind up giggling. I can see why now JB and her whole family believed Hiram and I were madly into one another. But I think for Hiram’s sake, I don’t think either one of us should put on another show for Gladys.

I free one hand, stepping in to solidify my hold on him. “I think we need to discuss exactly how you and I are going to handle this….Jubilee matter. Wouldn’t you agree, Mister Lodge?” I tease him with that last bit, shooting both my eyebrows up. I giggle more as I watch his reaction. I’m kind of glad Hiram and I did not enforce a “No Flirting” rule - this flirting business is fun.

Still in my giggly mood, I go to lead Hiram back over to a far off booth where we can have more privacy. Suddenly, I’m paused in my path. I feel his hands go to my waist, his lips close to one of my ears. “Careful, Acid Queen Alice.” Hiram mutters, “People will say we’re in love.”

I stop giggling. A smirk is born. I lean back into him, pattering my fingers against his jawline from behind me. So what is Tom Keller is watching me? So what if Gladys and Sabrina find it shocking? Or anyone else in Riverdale has an opinion? I’m falling for Hiram Lodge, and I don’t care who knows it.

I whisper back, “At this point - _let them._ ” 

I peel myself away, leaving Hiram wondering. I grasp onto his hand tighter, and I drag him into a booth with me. He takes one side, and I the other. I watch snow greet the earth outside. It’s peaceful and quiet. For a good long time, I don’t think about impending doom, or the bloodied bodies piling up, or about Sabrina. Or Hal. 

All I think about now is what I could wear to the Jubilee. Where Hiram and I can go to eat or get a drink beforehand. I think about what Christmas presents I should buy for him, and the Lodges, and for Toni and her friends. I think of new pie recipes I can introduce to Pop. I think about his hand still intertwined with mine on this table, running his fingertips through the grooves. This, and more. But these thoughts are pleasant. The most pleasant thoughts I’ve had since….ever. My brain is the most at peace it’s been in a long time.

I knew I had a good reason to engage in a contract with Hiram Lodge after all.

**XXXXXXXX**

**_End of Chapter_ **

  
  



End file.
